In All Our Lives
by HecateA
Summary: A collection of AU oneshots featuring Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Taking suggestions and requests in the reviews. Currently: Mythology, God, Bakery, Mermaid, Flower Shop, Rockstar, Detective, Medieval/Tailor, Soul Mark, WWII, Veterinarian, Ghost, Royalty, Pureblood, Dark, Dancer, Criminal, Amnesia...
1. MythologyAU: The Origins of Love

**Author's Note: **Hey all! Every now and then for a competition, a request, or a prompt list I have to write an AU; so I've decided from this point on that all of my AU fics featuring Remus and Tonks are going to get neatly stashed in this multichapter story. And, why yes, this chapter is here to bookmark/announce this series and also provide my flimsy justification for this agglomeration of AUs. Please accept the ridiculously long quote introducing this story and indulge your local Greek mythology nerd. A list of previously published AUs is at the bottom, though I may reuse the AU trope here. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition. This particular translation of The Symposium was taken from the MIT's Internet Classics Archives.

**Warnings:** Character death

* * *

**This week's AU: **Greek Mythology AU (Set in Modern Era)

* * *

**The Origins of Love**

"_In the first place, let me treat of the nature of man and what has happened to it . . . the primeval man was round, his back and sides forming a circle; and he had four hands and four feet, one head with two faces, looking opposite ways, set on a round neck and precisely alike; also four ears [ . . .] _

—Plato's _The Symposium _

* * *

Remus cupped her face in his hands and ran his thumbs in small, delicate circles on her cheeks. As far as she was concerned, it was the most reassuring gesture in the world. Still, the blood in her veins felt frozen in place.

"I don't like this," Dora said quietly, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.

"I know," he said quietly. "Neither do I. But if You-Know-You actually shows himself at Hogwarts… we might actually be able to end this tonight. This war might end. Imagine waking up in a world tomorrow where there's no war. Where our biggest problem is just how much lung capacity our son inherited…"

Dora smiled. "That's not the issue. I don't like you going alone…"

"I won't be alone," Remus said. He pressed his forehead against hers. "I won't be alone."

She took a deep breathing, and then another, and another until she could do it without the air coming out shakily. Then she looped her arms around his neck.

"Be smart," Dora said.

"I will be."

"Be careful."

"Yes."

"Be…" Dora sighed and closed her eyes, trying to think of the right word. She settled on being honest instead. "Come back, Remus."

"I would want nothing more and will do absolutely everything to make it back," Remus said. "But if I don't…"

"No," Dora said.

"Listen—"

"You will come back to me," Dora said insistently. "In one way or another. In this life or the next. But really try to make it this one."

Remus laughed and closed the short gap between them to kiss her.

"I'll really try," he promised.

* * *

_Terrible was their might and strength, and the thoughts of their hearts were great, and they made an attack upon the gods [ . . .] Doubt reigned in the celestial councils. Should they kill them and annihilate the race with thunderbolts, as they had done the giants, then there would be an end of the sacrifices and worship which men offered to them; but, on the other hand, the gods could not suffer their insolence to be unrestrained._

* * *

"Nymphadora…" her mother stuttered.

"Mum, take the baby," Dora said. Her heart was beating fast now—she hadn't been afraid until now, until she'd wrapped herself in her travel cloak and brought the baby to her mother.

"Have you thought this through?" Mum asked.

"My son needs a better world," Dora said. "And for that to happen, they'll need all hands on deck tonight. _We _need all hands on deck tonight. That's why Remus is there and that's why I have to be there too."

"Dora, don't," Mum said again. "Dora, what if he loses you? What if I lose you?"

"I'll come back, Mum," Dora said again. She kissed her mum's forehead, a quick peck as if she was about to run out the door to go to school or run an errand. Then she kissed Teddy and it was much, much harder to pull back from the smell of baby shampoo and the softness of his turquoise curls. The next few words came by only as a whisper. "One way or another."

* * *

_At last, after a good deal of reflection, Zeus discovered a way. He said: "Methinks I have a plan which will humble their pride and improve their manners; men shall continue to exist, but I will cut them in two and then they will be diminished in strength and increased in numbers; this will have the advantage of making them more profitable to us. They shall walk upright on two legs, and if they continue insolent and will not be quiet, I will split them again and they shall hop about on a single leg. [ . . .]_

* * *

"Mrs. Tonks," Harry said awkwardly, shuffling his way towards Andromeda at the funeral. He had Teddy propped up against his hips. He'd spent more than a few days at her house, taking care of the baby with and for her, but he was still so stiff and awkward and polite around her.

"Hello, dear," she said. She smiled even if it felt like her lips—no, her whole face—were cracking. "What you said about Remus was beautiful."

Harry looked down at his feet but was tugged back to reality by Teddy's cooing. He cleared his throat before speaking to Andromeda next.

"Is, umm… is there anything that you need?" Harry asked.

"Thank you, dear, but I'll be alright," Andromeda said. She reached out her arms and he passed her the baby. She liked the way he fit against her, like a puzzle piece she hadn't expected to have a spot for. She bounced him up and down. "It's just… well, it's difficult to think that they'll be alright, after all this."

"Alright?" Harry asked hesitantly, panic in his eyes as if he was suddenly concerned that she'd forgotten that her daughter and son-in-law were dead. For a second she was afraid he'd take the baby back.

"Alright," Andromeda said. "Somehow..."

* * *

_Each of us when separated, having one side only, like a flat fish, is but the indenture of a man, and he is always looking for his other half." _

—_Plato_

* * *

**Other Tonks/Remus AUs which you can find on my profile:**

*Long Night — Soulmark AU

*A Good Memory For These Things — Coffee Shop AU

*The Right Idea — Tattoo Shop AU

*Chapter By Chapter — University/College AU

*A Tad Victorian — Flower Shop AU

*When They Come Pre-Bitten — Creature!AU

*New Heights — Circus!AU

*Iron and Silver — Fairy!AU

*The Brightest Colour — Little Red Riding Hood!AU

*Finding A Way In— Hacker!AU

*Not So Definitely Over — Bookshop!AU

*All Was Well — Series of Everyone Lives!AU drabbles

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Individual Challenge(s): **Ties That Bind; Folklore Focus; Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Slytherin MC; Bow Before the Blacks; Order, Order; Brush; Spring Rain; Seeds; Golden Times; Old Shoes; Themes & Things A (Love); Themes & Things B (Loss); Themes & Things F (Resilience); Advice from the Mug; Ethnic & Present; Tiny Terror; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash

**Word Count: **707

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Fall Medium 1 (Reincarnation)


	2. GoddessAU: When The Moon Fell in Love

**Author's Note: **It's been a while since I started this collection promising more AUs and oof. They just haven't been coming up—until a God!AU challenge came up and I couldn't help but imagine Remus and Tonks in a modified version of the story of Selene and Endymion, the moon goddess and the shepherd, who fell into endless sleep when Selene asked Zeus to grant him eternal youth. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment 3, Necromancy Task #3 Write a God/Goddess!AU

**Warnings:** Chronic illness; near death experience

* * *

**This week's AU: **God/dess AU (The myth of Selene and Endymion)

* * *

**When the Moon Fell in Love **

Remus ignored the pain in his hips as he lay back down on the thatched roof, closing his eyes and stretching out to expose his neck and arms to the cool night air. This was what he did every night before the full moon, when he was simultaneously too restless to sleep but too exhausted to do anything else—mostly so that he didn't worry the others who were soundly sleeping in the farmhouse. The crispness and coolness of the air around him wouldn't stop the full moon from running its course or his body from breaking and twisting with the change, but for now it felt better and that was really all Remus could ask for at this point.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the roof and when he turned his head aside and opened his eyes, there she was laying at his side. She was laying on her side, leaning against her hand, silvery hair and white skirts spread around her. Her pewter grey eyes were focused on him, though he saw worried creases between them.

"Hey you," he said. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight."

"Well, I won't be able to see you tomorrow night," the goddess said, smiling sadly. The worry on her face intensified. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Remus promised. "This isn't my first time doing this. You would know better than anyone."

"I do," the goddess said. "Would you like to hear about something I saw from my chariot last night to distract you?"

"Always," Remus smiled.

* * *

The goddess of the moon was already sitting on the rooftop when he climbed the ladder to join her.

"I missed you yesterday," Remus said when he saw her. It was truer than he had expected it to be, when he'd first opened his mouth and she quite possibly saw him blush even if all they had around them was moonlight. Then again, that was probably all the light she, out of all people (well, beings), needed.

The goddess smiled and brought her legs up against her chest, propping her chin on her knee.

"Did you?" she said. "You know, there's going to be a New Moon every month."

"Trust me, I know how the cycle works," Remus said, carefully easing his way towards her to sit at her side. The satchel thrown over his shoulder had bread and cheese and grapes and a book he thought she might like in it. It would be more than enough for a night to go by quickly.

* * *

"You don't look well," the goddess said. Her hand surprised him when she touched his forehead, as if checking for a fever. It was a very human gesture and she was warm and soft to the touch too. Again, surprisingly… well, human.

"I'm…" Remus wasn't sure what to say or what to tell her. "I'll be okay. I had a long night yesterday, as I'm sure you know."

The goddess looked away shyly before meeting his eyes again.

"I sometimes wonder how you can bear to spend time with me, given what the moon does to you," she said.

"It's because I know you," Remus said.

"For better or for worse," she said.

"For the better, I'd say," Remus said. "It's not just you, it's me too. It's my bite, my life. It would be worst to live it alone."

The goddess smiled a tiny bit.

"Well, since you're not alone, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"I've told you before," Remus said. "Company is more than enough."

* * *

It was getting harder to climb but Remus wouldn't miss it for the world. It was his favourite place to be and the feeling in his stomach that she appeared by his side to join him under the stars was his favourite. He loved opening his eyes, turning his head, and seeing her at his side—her pewter eyes shining and her hair cascading in darker or lighter shades of grey according to where and when in the month they were.

The goddess tilted her head to the side, observing him.

"That's a nasty cut on your face."

"I'm already feeling better with you here."

She smiled.

"So charming, for a mortal," she smiled. It faded quickly. "But are you alright?"

"I am," he promised. He reached out a hand which she took. He wasn't as surprised by her warmth this time, he hadn't been in a very long time, but he was thankful for it. That he always was.

"I just need your help thinking of a much more interesting story to explain the scar it will leave than 'lycanthropy,'" he said. "The others were useless—Peter kept trying to make up stories about the chickens attacking me…"

She laughed and ran her thumb in circles around his palm.

* * *

It was raining.

To be clear, it wasn't the first time since Remus had met the goddess that it rained. But it was the first time that he saw her even when the sky was covered up, even when they weren't in their usual meeting place.

He had gone into the barn overnight to check on the mare and her new foal, to make sure that they had what they needed and perhaps an extra stable blanket for the night. He spotted the family of barn cats that Sirius had all but declared war against, but never in a thousand years would Remus take a side and eject from the barn—especially not on a stormy night like this one. Peter had put the sheep away and the lot of them were sleeping through the thunder and rain quite nicely, which must be a fantastic talent that Remus wished he had. The cows seemed annoyed. Chickens that must have escaped the coop were clucking away, but Remus wouldn't worry about them just then.

When he turned to the barn doors to leave, he saw her standing in the doorframe, dusty grey hair piled on top of her head and out of the way. She was wearing shorter robes than usual, almost as if she'd known that she'd come and didn't want them to drag on the barn floor.

"You're here!" Remus said, moving to join her. The closer to her he got, the louder the sound of the rain and its consistent pitter patter got in his ears.

"I am," she said.

"Why?" Remus asked.

"I wanted to see you," the goddess said as if that was self-explanatory.

Before Remus could ask 'why' again, she kissed him.

* * *

"If I could see you during the day," the goddess said as they sat on the roof and she carved designs into his new shepherd's crook, "I would."

"I'm not very interesting during the day," Remus scoffed. "Really, I'm just doing farmwork with the other three. The highlight of our week is going to the market to sell eggs and cheese and bread and whatever else we manage to make."

"You're quite inventive, the four of you," the goddess said. She dug the point of her knife into the wood and seemed quite pleased with herself when a chip of wood came flying out. "But even if it was boring, I would want to be a part of it. I could pretend to be mortal, to fit in. I'd force my hair to take on a normal colour—maybe a mousy brown that could fit in with the crowd—and I'd take a mortal name so that I wouldn't be recognized. Something like… something like Dora."

"Dora," Remus smiled. "Well, you know, I can call you that without you having to come be boring with us. Dora."

She smiled and handed the crook back to him. He ran his fingers along the engravings in the wood, which showed the phases of the moon and the outline of constellations.

* * *

She had made the moonlight especially bright for him to read by what felt like seconds ago, but already he was shutting the book he'd been reading and turned to face her to see what she thought about the ending.

She was laying on her stomach, arms pillowed under her head and a lazy smile on her lips.

"Start the story over," Dora mused. "It was a good one, and good stories should go on."

He couldn't argue with that logic.

He kept reading and got a few chapters in before taking a break to rest his voice. The goddess simply watched him.

"I didn't mean to fall in love with you," she said plainly.

Remus felt himself blush.

"I promise," the goddess said, sitting up and taking the book from him, opening it and flipping the pages to where he had let off. "But I did, and good stories should go on, yes?"

"Yes," Remus agreed.

"Chapter 3?"

"Chapter 3," he agreed.

* * *

He was sitting on the grass, leaning against the ladder and trying to steady his breathing as his joints moaned in protest and pain.

"Remus," she said.

When he opened his eyes it seemed like the world was swimming, but he knew his head was just dizzy with pain.

"Remus," she said, kneeling before him. He felt her hands on his shoulders through the nauseating amount of other sensations he was reckoning with.

"Remus, what's wrong?" the goddess asked again. They were getting closer to the full moon and so her silver hair was darkening. It was bound backwards in a romantically loose braid.

"Nothing, Dora," he said. "Just… just a rough transformation yesterday."

"Are you hurt?" she asked pressingly.

"Of course," Remus said. "But I'll be fine… I…"

He lost his breath when he tried to push himself up but Dora caught him, holding him against her milky white form.

"It's gotten worse," Dora whispered.

"Of course it has," Remus said, slumping so that his forehead rested on his shoulder. "I'm getting older."

"What?" Dora asked. "I mean, of course, that's what mortals do, but…"

"We've known each other a long time," he said. "Years, now. Did you know that we first met twenty years ago?"

"Twenty?" the goddess repeated as if the idea that she should count had never crossed her mind which, quite frankly, it possibly hadn't.

"And I didn't feel like a young man then, either," Remus said. "Sometimes I think the changes age me twice as fast."

"Well what can I do?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," Remus said. "Please, I… I think I need to sleep tonight."

* * *

Another farmer, the one she assumed must be Sirius based on the stories she'd heard from Remus, was sitting on the rooftop when the goddess came.

"Huh," Sirius said, looking at the goddess. "Not what I expected Remus' type to be, but here we are, I supposed."

"Where is he?" she asked, paying no attention to what she assumed was teasing. That was, after all, what Remus' stories always suggested one should do before the handsome, sharp-tongued Sirius.

"Sleeping," Sirius said. He didn't say more than that which gave her some time to look him over. The subject of age had loomed large in her mind since Remus had brought it forth, and she tried to assess the toll that time had took on Sirius. He did not look as tired, worn, grey, and weary as Remus did, though she knew they were the same age.

"I'm Dora," she said finally.

"You're not, you're a goddess," Sirius said. "I mean, I'll call you Dora if you want, but you need to understand that Remus is mortal."

"Mortal and dying," Dora said.

"Yes," Sirius said. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head. "James and I, we were hoping we'd find a potion that would help his body weather the transformations, make them more gentle… but he was bitten so young. He's been through this so many times."

"I know," the goddess said.

"I think you do but I also think you don't," Sirius said. "Just… have you ever lost somebody, goddess? Because we're not ready for what's coming but at least we understand the permanence of it."

"I understand," Dora said.

* * *

What she meant to say, though she did not feel the need to explain herself to a mortal, was that she understood that she could not let it happen.

When she finished riding the moon through the sky, when she went back to the place where only the gods could go (even in stories and to the eyes of readers), she made for the throne room with a question in her throat and the weight of a life on her heart.

* * *

When Remus woke up he took a deep breath and paused to assess where it hurt. To his incredible surprise, nothing did.

Perhaps even more surprising was that Dora sat on the simple wooden chair next to his bed, the one where he'd gotten used to seeing James, Peter, or Sirius standing vigil even if he promised them he would be fine. When she saw him awaken her lips parted slightly, letting out a sigh. Her hair tumbled loosely down her back, jet black which made her eyes shine even more.

"Dora," he said. When he reached out to her he realized that the scars that had pockmarked and criss-crossed his arms for so many years after so many painful transformations weren't there. He was just sunburned and tanned and rough-handed, like any other farmer in the valley.

She took his hand immediately in both of hers and squeezed it, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles. Behind her he saw the other boys, by the door and bottlenecking the hall.

"What happened?" Remus asked.

"I did what I could," Dora whispered. "It… it won't fix everything and it won't stop nature from running its course, she can't be stopped. But I could have them make you young again, whenever you slept."

Remus carefully pushed himself back up, but as it turned out he hadn't had to be careful. He got up easily and smoothly, as if he was in another body, and looked around.

"You…" he turned from his friends to Dora and threw his arms around her neck. He felt her melt against him, and ran a hand through her hair to cup her head.

"You asked me years ago how I could love the moon," Remus whispered in her ear. "This is why."

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Individual Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC (x2), Hufflepuff MC; Marauders Tale; Bow Before the Blacks; Immortal MC (Y); Brush; Seeds; No Need for Calendars; Old Shoes; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; Real Family; In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Word Count: **2392

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Fall Micro 1 (God/dess AU)


	3. BakeryAU: The Sweetest Tooth

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #4, Muggle Cultures Task #2 Write about someone with a sweet tooth

**Warnings: **NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Bakery!AU

* * *

**The Sweetest Tooth**

She was leaning against the counter by the cash register, pretending to review some bills to take a break from cleaning up the kitchen, when the bell on the front door jingled. In came a man bundled up in handmade sweaters and ill-fitting jeans. He was looking around at the abundance of bread loaves stacked on the shelves, the baskets of bagels, and the neat lines of pastries in the glass case with the kind of curiosity and wonder that Tonks loved. It marked him quite transparently as a first-time customer.

"Wotcher," she called. "Let me know if there's anything I can help you with."

"Actually, yes," the man said, approaching the cash. He looked at a loss for a second before shaking his head to refocus. "Sorry, it just smells great in here…"

"We try," Tonks said. The smells of fresh bread, challah peppered with sesame seeds, freshly baked cake, honey, sweet icing, cinnamon, chocolate, coconut, caramel, nutmeg, cloves, almond extract, baked apples, poppy seeds, and whatever else she was using on any given day could definitely be dreamy and distracting. A fresh batch of sufganiyot had come out of the oven, and the rugelach she'd made this morning had made their odorous mark on the bakery hours ago, in the form of apricot jam, cherries, and hazelnut.

"Right," the man said shyly. "Umm, listen, this is a weird question, but does an incredibly pregnant red-haired woman with big, emerald green eyes ever come in here? Or alternatively a bespectacled man who looks like he's unfamiliar with the function of a hairbrush?"

She couldn't help but burst out laughing at the vivid, and frankly accurate, descriptions.

"Yes, I've seen them," she said. "Usually together."

"Okay, good, I'm at the right place," the man said, nodding along as if encouraging himself. "Right, so, we've all been friends since school, and now James was called away for work because he's in law enforcement. And while he's gone, a few of us are staying with Lily because she's never been more pregnant, but we have no idea what we're doing."

"Right," Tonks nodded along.

"Anyways, she's been craving sweets for her whole pregnancy and I know this bakery's along her usual walk and I'm wondering what…"

"What her usual order is?" Tonks finished, smiling at the sweetness of it all.

"Yes," the man sighed, as if relieved that he'd managed to get his whole story out.

"Chocolate croissant," Tonks said, reaching for the pair of tongs she used to package orders. "Her husband, James you called him, sometimes got an almond croissant—want me to throw one in in case she's used to sneaking bites from him?"

"That would be incredible," he nodded.

"Right," Tonks said, slipping the pastries in question into a paper box stamped with her bakery's logo. She added a few pieces of chocolate babka since it was nice and fresh, and some neatly folded hamantaschen since she vaguely remembered the couple giggling at how much they looked like little hats during one of their past visits—which, to be fair, they were supposed to.

She turned back to her customer.

"And what would you like?"

"Me?" the man asked shyly. His cheeks flushed a nice blush pink she quite liked.

"Yes, you," she said. "I know a sweet tooth when I see one—industry skill, you might call it."

"What gave me away?" he said with a grin.

"Your face when you walked in, the way your eyes were going over the display case while we were talking, and a certain _je ne sais quoi," _she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

He blushed even more and looked away, biting back a smile.

He turned to look at the display case again, letting himself be tempted by the mixture of French, Jewish, and British desserts.

"It'll be on the house," Tonks said. "On account of how sweet you're being to your friends."

"Are you allowed to do that?" he inquired.

"It's my shop," she shrugged.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, well… thank you… what do you like the most, out of the things you make?"

"That's a trick question," Tonks said. The man smiled back but held her gaze, and something about his shy little smile and his warm eyes broke her resolution. "I like the éclairs—I spend the whole day hoping they don't sell out so I can sneak one home. They've got a chocolate ganache on top with a dash of espresso in it, so really deepen that chocolate flavour, and on good days I toss chocolate chips into the pastry cream."

"Is today a good day?" the man inquired.

She nodded.

"That sounds incredible," he said. "I'd love to try one."

Tonks packed one up in a little white cardboard box so that it would stay pristine on his walk home. She hesitated for a moment but eventually decided to scribble her phone number on the box's inside in black Sharpie, adding a note specifying: _(mine, not the bakery's). _

She turned back to him and handed him his purchases in a little paper bag.

"You should come by again tomorrow," Tonks said. "Tuesday is Macaron Day. Your friend really likes lemony things, and I make a wicked lemon macaron"

It wasn't, but she could make it Macaron Day.

"Right," he said. "Well, I better go feed her now but I'll see you again tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow," she said.

As she watched him leave the shop, she made a mental note for herself to make an extra batch of those chocolate raspberry macarons. Something told her she'd be giving out a lot of free baked goods from now on.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Seeds; Ways to the Heart; Old Shoes; Ethnic & Present; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Word Count: 944 **

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Winter Medium 2 (Almonds)


	4. FirefighterAU: Sirius Started the Fire

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #4, Herbology Task #5: Write a Firefighter!AU

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Firefighter!AU

* * *

**Happy Accidents**

**Alternative Title: Sirius Started the Fire **

"'Live with Sirius,' they said" Remus muttered under his breath. "'It'll be fun,' they said. 'You get along so well,' they all said… absolute rubbish. I'm going to strangle James next time I see him."

"Oye," Sirius said. "I said I was sorry."

"For setting the flat on fire, yes," Remus said. He shuffled closer to Sirius nevertheless, since they had rushed out of the flat in the middle of the coldest night of the year. Remus had only had time to grab a blanket from the living room and stuff his bare feet in a pair of sneakers, and he was shivering greatly for it. His flannel pajama pants didn't feel nearly as warm as they did when he was tucked into bed—which was where he would _love _to be at this time.

"If the building was _actually _on a fire we'd be nice and toasty right now," Sirius said. "It'd kind of be preferable, actually."

"Don't try to be funny," Remus shivered. "I.. can't… feel… my… face…"

Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus to share his heat, and even if Remus wanted to murder him he didn't because a dead body wouldn't be as warm.

"At least this is cozy," Sirius said. "We can just get comfortable, you know?"

"Frostbite is not comfortable, damnit!" Remus said. "Sirius, this is the third time this month you've set off the fire alarm."

He'd say more things to the most useless flatmate in the world but his teeth were chattering.

"Yes, so you'd think everyone would stop panicking," Sirius said nonchalantly.

Just like that, it started to snow.

Remus sighed.

"What did you even do this time?" he asked Sirius. "I saw the final product, but what did you _do _to that poor toaster?

"I just wanted toast."

"At 3:26 a.m.?"

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Sirius shrugged.

"I'd ask you to tell your heart to want things that can't start small fires, but I don't even know how you managed to mess up toast that badly," Remus sighed. He shivered, which was when he saw the firefighters emerge from the building. "Oh, thank God…"

They reconvened by their bright red truck and quickly chatted with the building manager. A Black firefighter spoke into a megaphone, announcing to everyone that it was safe to go back inside.

"...Except for the tenants in Flat 24," he said.

Remus could have pushed Sirius into the snowbank—especially when he saw their landlady, a Scottish woman with grey hair and rectangular glasses who had no time for nonsense (which was essentially all they were able to deliver). She pointed them out to the firefighters.

Another firefighter came to see them. As she walked towards them, she took off her helmet and revealed crimson red hair, pulled back in a high bun. He was surprised by how slight she was in all that bulky gear. The moonlight, streetlights, and the light off the fire engine bounced off the reflective strips on her jacket and pants.

"Hullo," she said. "You're from Flat 24, yeah?"

"Yes, that's us," Remus said, trying not to sound resentful even if he wanted to melt into a puddle. Maybe he'd actually freeze over if that happened.

"Lovely," she said. She gave them a look-over. "Nice pajamas."

Remus gave Sirius a look but when he turned back to the firefighter she was smiling kindly, as if she meant it.

"Cold?" she asked.

"Yes," Remus said.

"I'd love to warm you up but I'm afraid that's unprofessional, so I'll make this quick. Anyways, you two are lucky—the toaster's done for, but you really minimized damage to the flat. Good move from whoever dumped it in the sink and turned the water on."

Sirius looked at Remus and mouthed 'thank you.'

"Smoke damage in the flat's not what it could have been either," she said. "Again, you were lucky. Be more careful, you might not be next time."

"I'll try," Sirius said.

Remus sighed.

The firefighter looked from Sirius to Remus. She cracked a grin.

"Well, good luck with him," she told Remus. "Now go back inside before you freeze, yeah?"

"Right, thank you," he said.

She gave him a wink before going back to join the rest of the firefighters.

"Bit on-the-nose for a firefighter to have crimson hair, I'd say," Sirius said as they hobbled back inside.

"I liked her," Remus said defensively.

"Huh," Sirius said. "Want me to start another fire to get her back here?"

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC (x2); Hufflepuff MC; Bow Before the Blacks; Fire Time; Winter Wonderland; Old Shoes; Themes & Things A (Friendship); Themes & Things B (Risk); Themes & Things C (Blanket); Themes & Things F (Snow); Ethnic & Present; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Word Count: **748

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Fall Micro 1 ("I'm Cold" Trope)


	5. MermaidAU: The Lady of the Lake

**Author's Note: **This was fun to write, as someone whose thesis has slowly become their personality. Also, hey. Mermaids! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #4, Forestry Task #3 Write a Merperson!AU

**Warnings: **NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Mermaid!AU

* * *

**The Lady of the Lake**

The splash of water at Remus' side told him that he was no longer alone, and sure enough when he looked up he saw that someone had hauled themselves up to the edge of the dock before leaning forwards, propping herself up on her elbows. The mermaid tilted her head to the left, sending her soaked, greyish blue hair tumbling down over one of her shoulders. Between their colour, perfectly adapted to camouflage in a lake, and the ways that the braiding style twisted, it very much looked like a cascade. She blinked her big amber eyes towards him. It always took him a second to get used to their unnatural glow, as her pupils and irises adjusted to their surface state. He suspected it had something to do with the amount of light she saw underwater as opposed to above water.

"Hello again," Remus said.

"Hello," she said. "Are you working on your thesis work again today?"

"I am," Remus said. "So I'm afraid I won't be much fun. Do you promise not to splash if I come show you?"

The mermaid seemed to ponder this for a second and eventually decided she was in a benevolent mood. She nodded and so Remus kicked off his shoes and walked down the wooden dock to go sit at the edge of the water. He dipped his feet down into the freshwater she'd emerged from, circling them in a motion that imitated the way she moved her slate grey tail to stay in place.

"I was hoping to ask for your help, actually," Remus said. He repositioned the order in which his sketchbook, textbook, notebook, and scraps of parchment were piled to show her a sketch he'd recently done in charcoal.

"You drew this," she said.

"How did you know?"

"I recognize that sloppy penmanship anywhere," she said, reaching out a finger to point to the annotations on the page. They had known each other long enough for her to be aware of how disastrous water on paper, parchment, ink or charcoal could be.

"It's not sloppy, the letters are just tiny," Remus said. Lily and the others in his graduating classes called it chicken scrawl.

"Give me a break, you only taught me how to read months ago," the mermaid said. She tilted her head again and the cascade shifted.

"Of course, sorry" Remus said. "Your English is better than my Mermish will ever be, anyways."

"You speak it better than any human I've ever met, though you do sound funny when you use place names… and you put the words in the wrong order all the time so it's like you're a little one... Anyways, why are you showing me this?"

"My vision's not as good underwater, naturally, so I was wondering how close I'd gotten this last portrait," he said.

She studied the picture of the striped Grindylow he'd drawn, her eyes scanning over every detail. This was the sixth distinct species of Grindylow he'd isolated and identified as part of his thesis work in Defense Against the Dark Arts (which had a particular focus on magical creatures). He had seen the signs that this particular lake was full of magical life, which was why he'd chosen it for his fieldwork, but he had never expected it to be this alive. If he hadn't struck up this friendship with the mermaid, he'd still be stumped as to how all the creatures of the lake had gotten there (secret passages under the earth connected after years of cooperative tunneling and labour—_that _was how… He still had so much to learn about underwater worlds.)

"Well, it looks ugly," she said.

"Dora!" he laughed.

"Not because of you, because they _are _ugly!" she scoffed. "If anything, it's a compliment!"

"Alright, alright," Remus said. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, my nerves are all skewed. At this point, I feel like I'm little more than a heap of anxiety. My due date is approaching."

"I know," Dora said. "I'll miss you when you'll have finished your work and gone."

"I won't go forever, I'll come back," he promised.

"You better, because I'm a tad limited," she said, splashing one of her hands in the water. He thought that there was something vaguely resentful in the way that she looked at her tail and its perfectly geometrical scales or the delicacy of the fins in which it ended.

"I will," he promised. "Is there anything else about this I could improve?"

"You always add shading to your life drawings as if they're being lit like surface light," Dora said. "Although I like that quite a lot, about your art—or science or Magizoology or whatever you call it… The horns could be a little lower on the head though, for the deepwater ones like this. It makes them easier to hunt, actually."

"Really?" Remus asked.

"Mm-hmm," the mermaid mused. "They have to get closer to do as much damage—though those damn things are so much sharper. They really hurt if you're not paying attention, or if you're a klutz like me."

"Noted," Remus said, rubbing at the parchment with his thumb. He stopped before he smudged the image too much. He knew how deep his perfectionist streak ran; he'd be restarting this sketch in only hours to take her advice.

"Will you read me your thesis when it's done and published, so that I see everything you've learned?" Dora asked.

"You can read it yourself," Remus asked. "I'll bring you a copy, cast a water repellent charm on it. You're much better at reading than you think you are, you know."

"I know," she said nonchalantly. "I just like hearing you read."

Remus smiled. That was, after all, why she had first approached him when he had started his research over a year ago. He'd been trying to puzzle through a difficult treaty on kelpies by reading out loud and she'd overheard just enough English over the years, from fishermen and hikers and the like, to be intrigued. At first he was sure she would drown him, but as it turned out she was just as curious as he was.

"I can do that now," he said. "I have a chapter I just finished editing, I can reread it to check for any spelling mistakes."

"Please," the mermaid said before she slid off the dock she had pulled herself onto. He heard her splash back down onto the water and reemerge seconds later, floating at the surface, eyes closed.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

He didn't know, so he smiled, looked down at his page, and started reading.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Seeds; Creature People; Old Shoes; Themes & Things A (Learning); Themes & Things B (Escape); Themes & Things C (Painting/Drawing); Themes & Things F (Improvement); Ethnic & Present; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Word Count: **1102

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Fall Medium 1 (Mermaid!AU)


	6. Flower Shop AU: Because of the Rain

**Author's Note: **Enjoooy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Flower Shop!AU

* * *

**Flowers in the Rain **

Secretly, she was a little bit relieved that it was raining. Business was always slow when it was raining—nobody liked to wander the farmer's market in awful weather, after all.

Except for soaking men in suits running into the shop, apparently.

He closed his umbrella behind him, trying to shake off the surplus droplets of rain before turning back to look inside the shop. She saw his warm brown eyes take apart and evaluate its various components; the hanging plants whose long leaves and vines dangled down, the shelves of potted plants and tiny succulents, the bouquets of flowers lining the walls, the door leading to a the cold room where she kept some of the more fragile blooms nice and fresh…

"Wotcher," she called from the desk where she'd been arranging a bouquet of roses in shades of orange and pink, for one of her regular customers. Some bloke named Vernon who seemed to constantly upset his wife for whatever reason—not her favourite, but he did sometimes make or break Tonks's rent on the little flower shop, so that was useful of him.

"Hi," he said. He looked at her, probably fixated on her hair which got folks excited all the time, and then at the bouquet before her.

"Umm, do you have any flowers that aren't orange?" he blurted.

She paused to process this for a moment, wondering if this was some kind of a slang term she hadn't heard by virtue of owning a small business and living under a rock.

"Yes, quite a few," Tonks said. "This… is a flower shop."

"Right," he said. He ran a hand through his damp hair. Ever since he'd opened the door, the air all felt damp. "Right, it's—it's really nice here. I should, umm, I should explain..."

"That would be nice," Tonks smiled. She snipped the end of some stems off with her scissors. "It's not often that men show up to my shop so well-dressed."

"Well," Remus said. "I'm dressed like this for a wedding, actually."

"Congratulations," Tonks said.

"No, no," he said quickly, eyes popping. "No, it's not mine! I'm a groomsman, it's my best friends, they're the ones getting married—we hope. It's raining pretty hard out there, as you can tell… I'm sorry for making a mess of your floor."

"Don't worry about it," Tonks said.

"See, they're excellent people and they're good for each other and they deserve this happiness, but the church they were meant to be married in flooded in last night's storm," Remus said. "And all these relatives can't get into town because it's kept raining and the roads are awful. Really, it's been one big comedy of errors and everything's gone wrong. So we've moved the whole thing to our favourite pub, and they're still quite excited about it and they're rolling with the punches on this one... but I'm scrambling to try and salvage the pieces of their dream wedding and I think flowers would really mean a lot to them. You know, they're only going to get married once—hopefully."

"So you're looking for flowers," Tonks summarized.

"Yes," the man nodded. "Because of the rain."

"Not orange, though," she said. She meant it teasingly, and he blushed.

"I hear you have options," he countered once he composed himself.

"That I do," Tonks smiled. "We got nicknamed 'the most colourful flower shop in the county' just last month, you know."

That had been Tonks' goal, when she'd opened the shop. Really, she'd just wanted a spot of colour in the village and so she made one—arranging her shop in rainbow gradients of petals and blossoms, painting vases and terracotta pots by hand, putting together corsages and bouquets for a thousand special occasions…

"Incredible," the man said.

"Your friends, do they have any favourite colours?" Tonks asked, going around the counter and picking up the basket she left there to bring it with her. She grabbed the stunned and very drippy customer by the hand and dragged him into the refrigerated room.

"Umm, well, umm, James' favourite team plays in bright green and that's Lily's eye colour—she likes yellow a lot, and looks good in blue, and their house colours were red… umm…"

"Alright, so any colour will do," Tonks concluded as she surveyed their options. She started plucking flowers into her basket. White crocuses and primroses, pale blue chionodoxa, baby's breath, slightly golden tulips…

"How many bridesmaids?"

"Umm—it's Marlene, Alice, and Mary, so three," he said. "And there's three groomsmen, but I don't think we were meant to get boutonnieres or anything, and then the bride and groom, of course."

"Right," Tonks said. "Right, that's doable."

She filled up her basket and circled back to the front counter where she started assembling the bouquets—three small ones, a bigger one for the bride, and she decided to make a small boutonniere for the groom anyways.

"Those are beautiful… this isn't even a bad plan B, your work is gorgeous. You're a lifesaver," he said.

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't given you the fee."

"It doesn't matter, it'll all be worthwhile," he said after a moment of hesitation.

"I'm kidding," Tonks said. "I'm feeling generous and really I'm a romantic at heart. I know, don't look like it, but I love a good story."

"I can definitely promise you that," he nodded. "Also, I don't technically have a plus one, so if you want some free food and a probably unspeakable quantity of beer…"

Tonks laughed.

And then wondered how bad it would look if she said yes.

"If I'm going to offer you that, I should probably tell you that my name is Remus," he said.

"Remus," she repeated. "Well, I'm Tonks. Maybe I'll tell you my full name after we crash this wedding."

"There will be cake," Remus promised. "I already got that all sorted out."

"Cake," Tonks nodded satisfyingly. "Well, if the icing's good I'll definitely tell you."

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Challenge(s): **Rainbow Focus; Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Spring Rain; Seeds; Minerva's Migraine; Old Shoes; Stinks; Themes & Things A (Change); Themes & Things B (Surprise); Themes & Things C (Flowers); Themes & Things E (Evening Gown/Tux); Themes & Things F (Improvement); Ethnic & Present; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Word Count: **989

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Fall Medium 1 (Rain)


	7. RockstarAU: The Same Tune

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Rockstar!AU

* * *

**The Same Tune**

They stumbled into their dressing room breathless and guidy, breathless from the encore and sweaty from the bright stage lights.

"Good one, boys," James called. He'd handed off his guitar to a stagehand when the show'd finished but he'd held onto his guitar pick, as per usual. He was fiddling with it still.

"I love Glasgow," Sirius said. He grabbed the water bottle someone had left on his dressing table and chugged half the bottle. The rest he dumped over his face.

"Merlin, that's good," he said. "Three encores really takes it out of you, huh?"

Just as he said, Peter face-planted on the cheap leather couch in the room. His drumsticks were still safely tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

James patted his back.

"Your chips and burger are waiting in the hotel room," he said. "After that you get to sleep."

Peter muttered something Remus didn't quite understand into the sofa.

Remus sat at his own dressing table and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his flannel shirt.

"I'd also ask that you shower Peter, on account of our room-sharing situation."

Peter raised his head just long enough to ask: "Won't you want to shower first?"

"I can shower here, it's fine," Remus said, leaning back into his chair. He liked some peace and quiet after their shows; as much as he loved playing onstage and taking pictures with fans after the show and occasionally catching especially enthusiastic fans at the doors… well, it was very overstimulating. He liked to take a moment of peace after. The other Marauders knew this.

"Alright," James said, nodding along. "You'll join the three of us later?"

"Yes," Remus promised.

"Alright. Eat something and drink lots," James ordered. "Also, knock on our door before going to bed when you get in."

"Or else James won't sleep," Sirius said.

"Exactly," James agreed.

They pulled Peter off the couch and with that they parted. Remus closed his eyes and gathered himself for a moment—but really, he'd had more than one reason for staying in. Notably; the venue they'd performed at that night had small, tiny really, wings. The theatre's piano had been pushed into the dressing room, up against the wall. It reminded Remus of the piano his high school had had, a small contraption on wheels with a wooden back and chipped keys. He pushed it away from the wall and ran his fingers against the first few keys. It sounded just fine to Remus—again, in a piano-abandoned-in-a-high-school way. He moved it towards where James had been sitting and co opted his chair. He repositioned himself, back straight, basically hearing his mother's chiding voice in his mind telling him to mind his posture.

He squared his shoulders and let his fingers hover over the piano keys for a moment before beginning to play. He was watching his own hands play more than he would have if he was playing regularly, but it wasn't bad. The song was still airy, melodic and soft…

"That was nice," he heard someone say.

Remus nearly fell out of his chair as he looked up. There, leaning in the door in her usual all-black uniform, was the fuschia-haired security guard. She told everyone to call her Tonks, but Peter was on a mission to find out what her real name was. Her sunglasses were clicked onto her t-shirt collar.

"Oh," Remus said. "What are you… what are you doing here?"

"Security detail accompanied the other band members to the hotel, but I was asked to stay behind with you," she said. "You know, on account of what happened with the stalking and the crazed fan last time we were in Glasgow."

"That's not necessary," Remus said.

"You can bring it up with Alastor," she said. "Or James. James also thought you'd take more kindly if I was here instead of one of the other bodyguards."

"Right," Remus said. "There's no getting rid of you, is there?"

"Nope," she said, popping her 'p.' She peeled herself off the wall and stepped into the room, looking lanky and effortless and supple even if Remus had already seen her throw people three times her size across rooms or tame massive crowds that beat and throbbed like pulses.

"Especially because I did my piano conservatories," she said.

"You did?"

"I did," she said.

"Me too," Remus said. "I was the only one of us who played an instrument in high school."

"You did?" Tonks said. "But what about James and Sirius… and Peter is such a pioneer…"

"I was lonely and they wanted me not to be lonely," Remus said. "So they made music with me and, as it turns out, they were good at it."

"I think you're quite good too," Tonks said. "The bass supports the entire melody or song. Your piano form seems a lot more practical than technical, though."

"I know," Remus said. "My mother would hate it."

"You just need practise," Tonks said. "We've been on tour so long…"

"So long," Remus agreed. "I guess we should start hunting down pianos while we're on tour, then. To stay sharp."

"Pfff," she scoffed. "_I'm _still sharp."

Remus laughed, incredulous.

"Really?" he said.

"Try me," she said. She crossed the room to come towards him and bumped her hip against Remus until he made room for her on the chair. Her fingers settled on the ivory and black keys with ease and she started playing.

And that was when Remus fell in love.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Marauders Tale; Bow Before the Blacks; Seeds; Old Shoes; Themes & Things A (Friendship); Themes & Things B (Escape); Themes & Things C (Mirror); Themes & Things D (Sofa/couch); Energy; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Word Count: 916**

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Fall Medium 1 (Rockstar!AU)


	8. DetectiveAU: Sharing the Madness

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #5, Magical Law and Government, Task #4 Write a police!au

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Detective!AU

* * *

**Sharing the Madness **

When she didn't respond to the cup being put down on her desk, he gently inched it closer to her until it had made its way on the case files she was reviewing.

She looked up, about to say something nasty, but he was looking at her with that strict look of his that always made her want to tell Remus that he should have been a teacher—though it did make him quite efficient in the interrogation room.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a white paper bag, which he also deposited on her paperwork.

"Eat, you'll feel better," he said.

"I'll feel better when we solve this," Tonks said. Still, he wasn't wrong. It was nearing twilight and she was hungry, after a night of... well, calling it "work" didn't feel right since she hadn't gotten a whole lot done, other than crossing off dead ends.

She grabbed the paper bag and reached in to find the double-baked croissant he'd picked up for her.

"You know how much time closing a case can take," Remus said, sitting back down at his own desk across from hers. He popped off the lid of his cup to cool down the Earl Grey tea—it was the only thing he drank, no matter the hour or how long their shifts were or how long they'd been beating themselves over the heads at the station. Out of all the things that made her partner an 87 year old man at heart, this was definitely the most flagrant.

At least he fed her caffeine addiction consistently, quietly, and without judgement. Also, he accepted how messy their patrol car always ended up being. He didn't question her colour-coding system for casework either. And he could read her awful penmanship. Plus whenever she'd re-dye her hair a new and outrageous colour, he'd colour-coordinate his shirt the next day so they would both be outlandishly fuschia or whatnot. Alright, Remus was overall about as perfect of a partner as she could have been paired up with, even in moments when she didn't understand him—like now.

"I'm surprised you aren't going mad about this," Tonks said.

"You've got enough madness for the both of us, I think," Remus said. He jiggled the mouse of his ancient computer to bring his dinosaur back to life. The monitor began shining dimly against his face.

"Because we _had _him and he just slipped through our fingers," she huffed. "I'd be bothered enough by any suspect getting away, let alone one that attacked you!"

"I am _fine," _Remus repeated. "I was cleared by medical right away, as you might recall."

"You keep saying that, but I keep not believing you," she said. She took a bite of her pastry. "Even aside from you, the man's a menace. We need to find him again."

"We've been removed from the case, Dora," he reminded her. He was the only one in the force who could get away with calling her that.

"You don't have to be here, then," she reminded him. She looked at her watch briefly and sighed. "Technically, our shift only starts at 7:00. You could go home and grab another hour, at least—or crash in the on-call room..."

He ignored her.

"Unless you're still not sleeping properly," she pointed out.

"If you're going to be working, I want to be around to stop you from doing anything too crazy," Remus said. "That's all."

"Liar," she said. There was worry etched in his face and weariness in his eyes and tension in his shoulders that she'd known him long enough to spot. She didn't care if he'd been jumped by the perp they'd been pursuing nearly a month ago; she also didn't care that he'd been cleared to return to work since. She could tell something was wrong.

"As you wish," Remus said, directing his attention back again to his computer screen. Dora sighed and refocused on the old case files she was reviewing again, looking for hints of their suspect in past cases that had never been closed. She brought her coffee to her lips and took a sip—if her idiot was going to be an idiot, then at least he was an idiot who knew where all the best shops were.

Remus was uncharastically restless at his desk. She was always tapping her feet and fidgeting with pens or reading under her breath, but Remus seemed to struggle to find a comfortable way to sit. He hadn't touched his tea.

"You alright?" Tonks asked.

"I am," he said. She wasn't convinced—actually, looking at him worried her more, if anything. He was breathing through his mouth, as if they'd just gone on one of their runs, and she saw sweat beading on his forehead. He'd rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, as if he was overheating.

"Remus?"

"I'm fine," he cut. She arched an eyebrow. "Sorry. I… I'm just trying to read through this."

Tonks turned back to her work but within five minutes, Remus pushed back from his desk. She saw him pause for a moment before getting up and walking away.

"Remus?"

"I'm fine," he said. She watched him leave the room and turn right as if going for the bathrooms. She hesitated a moment before getting up and following him.

She pushed the door to the men's restroom. Predictably, it was empty. One of the faucets was running. Only one stall was closed. When she stepped inside, the toe of her shoe lined up neatly with a button that had fallen to the ground.

She knelt down to pick it up.

"Remus?" she asked.

She just heard panting and laboured breathing.

"Remus, I don't care what you're saying anymore, I'm coming in," Tonks said. She heard him say her name faintly but she ignored it.

"I'm pushing through the door, so duck down," she said, even if she saw by peering under the stall door that he was sitting on the ground.

She pushed her shoulder into the door with a running start once, twice, and thrice until the cheap lock busted. The door swung open and she saw Remus sitting on the floor, his head leaning against the porcelain toilet seat. He'd just thrown up and he looked dizzy, sweaty, drained. He'd unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged off one of the sleeves as if he'd been overheating—and his arm…

"Remus," she exhaled. "Oh, Remus, what the fuck…"

"I…" he couldn't even answer the question. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Hey," she said, kneeling down in front of him. She ran to the sink to run her hands under the cool water and dampen a paper towel. She came back and pressed it to his forehead.

"Do you want food? Water?"

"No," he said. "I've been… getting sicker and sicker whenever I try to eat…"

"Okay," she said. She flushed the toilet and brought a new paper towel to run across his face. The arm, though… the arm she didn't know what to do with, she didn't know if she should touch it. The red marks were unevenly deep, an ugly red colour, some of them blackening and oozing…

"I thought you'd been cleared to come back to work," she said. "I thought… I thought they'd said you'd be fine."

"It didn't look like this at first," Remus said. "It got… it got worse."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tonks asked. She didn't wait for an answer; she got up and came back with a new paper towel that she gently pressed against the wound. Remus hissed and clenched his teeth.

"It sounds crazy," Remus said. "It… it has to be crazy, it can't be true."

"That an untreated wound got worse?" she asked. She pulled the wet paper towel again and exhaled.

"It… it looks like a bite," she said. "Didn't you say that… that you…"

"It was him," Remus said. "The man we were pursuing—he did this."

"This doesn't look like a human bite," Tonks said. "It looks, it looks…"

"Canine," Remus said. "Like a dog or something. I told you it was crazy."

"Remus, what _happened _to you that night?" Tonks asked, her heart beating in her throat.

"Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably." Remus said. "He was dangerous, he was… he would have hurt you if he'd..."

"Remus," she said. She cupped his cheek. "Remus, you have to tell me what's wrong so I can help. I'm in this with you and I've got your back, whatever it is, but you have to tell me."

"It's what I said happened," Remus said. "We were chasing him. You went to cut him off. I was alone with him. Out of nowhere he turned on me and attacked me."

"And _bit _you?" Tonks asked.

"It wasn't him Dora," Remus said. "It was a full moon, you know. My roommates pointed it out when I came home injured, we had a laugh about it, and it's a full moon tomorrow too."

"Remus, focus," she said.

"I _am _telling you," Remus insisted. "He bit me, but it wasn't him, it was… it was a creature that bit me and I've been sick ever since."

Tonks fell back from her kneeling position and sat on the floor. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to process Remus' words.

"That's mad," she said.

"I told you," Remus said. He took a deep, painful breath.

"Hey," Tonks said. She reached out and cupped Remus' cheek again. This time, she made him look at her.

"Something's wrong with me, Dora," he said meekly. "I don't want there to be something wrong with you too."

"Well, whatever crazy you have going on is my crazy too, okay?" she said. "That's just fact. We're partners, in everything and in this too—whatever it is. That's how we get through things and that's how we'll get through this."

Remus looked too tired to look convinced.

"Dora, this feels… different. This feels different and big and dangerous."

"Then it's lucky that there's two of us," she said.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts

**Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; LEO MC (x2); Rian-Russo Inversion; Old Shoes; Short Jog

**Word Count: **1677

* * *

_**Spring Bingo **_

**Space (Prompt): **4C (Tea)

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Spring Micro 2 (Detective!AU)


	9. TailorMedievalAU In Hopes of Breathing

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Dedication: **For scientistsinistral, who requested this AU! If you have any requests, leave them in the reviews.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #5, Demonology Task #3, Write about being treated like royalty.

**Warnings:** Slut-shaming slur, unplanned pregnancy, manipulative family (gaslighting, lying about origins), elopement.

* * *

**This week's AU: **Tailor!AU

* * *

**In Hopes of Breathing **

She looked away as he wrapped the measuring tape around her waist. _Obviously _he was simply doing his job—and _obviously _she shouldn't have cared that he was this close to her, that she could feel his breath against her or that the slightest touch of his fingertips brushed her hip in the process…

Yes, obviously.

But it was just best if she looked away so that nobody saw what he was doing to her.

"Is everything alright, Milady?" he asked. She could have sworn under her breath. Of course he would ask, that tailor saw and sensed and felt absolutely everything. That attention to detail was what made him such a good tailor, in her mother's books—if even one stitch in a row was uneven, if a single bead was loose along a neckline, if a nick in a ribbon gave it the slightest chance of eventually fraying… Remus saw it all.

"Of course," Dora replied. She cleared her throat and straightened her posture, happy that her mother wasn't there to see her slouch.

Remus nodded and knelt down so that he could measure the length of her skirt. It wasn't as if Dora was growing, but she didn't want to suggest that his measurements could be reused because… well, because she liked these moments of peace where it was just the two of them, when he came to the palace with bundles of fabric and paper patterns. Any kind of peace was hard to come by, of course, but if she couldn't be completely alone then Remus was a fine choice to share her peace with.

When he was done taking his measurements, he rolled up the tape and tucked it into his breast pocket. He offered her a hand so that she could step off the stool and waved her towards a chair. She kept her back straight, sat with her knees glued together, and made sure to spread the skirts of her dress so that they didn't bundle or crease as she sat.

"I was instructed to give you as many options as possible for this gown," Remus said, coming towards her with a pile of patterns and sketches. "King Lucius's words were, I believe, to spare no expense."

"My father feels generous," Dora said.

Remus smiled. He must have heard the sarcasm dripping in.

"Perhaps we can finally make you a gown that you will not begrudge me for making," Remus said.

"I begrudge you nothing, sir," Dora said immediately.

Remus chuckled under his breath.

"You know, you are not my only client—just my favourite. All the others are happy to see me, happy to input on colours and fabric, pleased to ask me to add more shine or texture… you look a little bit resentful, every time I put you in a gown."

Dora didn't have a good answer—not one that a royal lady could and should say out loud.

"So why am I your favourite?" Dora asked.

"I like a challenge," Remus said.

Dora smiled a half-smile she hadn't meant for him to see.

"It is hardly your fault I lack the proper fondness for being dressed up," Dora said.

"Well then, I will find another way to make you smile."

* * *

"There is still much work to be done..." Remus said. He was fluttering around in bursts as he adjusted how the fabric hung on her body, gathered at the sleeves, layered as it tumbled to the ground…

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, at the pine green and snow white and sea gray fabrics of the dress he had made, at the first hints of bronze embroidering starting to appear, at his anxious face as he waited for her reaction.

"This is beautiful," Dora said. It truly, truly was.

"I know," he said. "I've made beautiful things before. What I want for this gown is for it to be strong, like you, and dignified and powerful—something that Boedicia or a warrior queen would wear…"

"Is that what I am to you?" she asked.

Remus blushed.

"You are my client and my lady, and I am your humble servant," he said.

She liked it the other way around best, but she tried not to let it show.

"I love it," she said.

* * *

She pulled the bow's string back. Her fingers lined up with her chin, the string could have touched her lips and nose. She used her back muscles, not her biceps. She relaxed her grip. Her stance was immaculate. She had internalized and naturalized everything that Alastor had taught her, when the captain of the guard had first noticed just how rambunctious she was.

She released the arrow, which found its target easily. She knew the make-shift range Alastor had installed behind the gardens for her like the back of her hand.

"Shit!" somebody yelled. A man with shaggy hair fell out of the forest, dropping a basket of mushrooms.

"Damn it Padfoot, get back in here," a black-haired man said, appearing to grab the first. He spotted Dora. "Oh, fuck..."

"Crap!" someone else in the woods called.

"Watch your language, all of you, and get out of the way."

All of a sudden it was Remus stepping out of the woods, grabbing his friends as if to pull them back. Then he made eye contact with Dora and it was hard to tell which one of them was more surprised.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, I'm sorry, I…"

He did a quick bow and then kicked his friends so that they did the same.

"Remus," she said. She made her way towards the makeshift target. Suddenly, she was hyperconscious that she was wearing a stolen servant girl's skirt, boots she'd stolen from her father and stuffed with rags, and a peasant blouse.

She ripped the arrows she'd fired out of her target. She only had three to use and reuse.

Her mouth felt dry. Outside of the palace, the world seemed so… _possible. _

Still, he shouldn't see her like this.

"You're not supposed to be harvesting mushrooms so close to the palace. I am not supposed to be shooting arrows either," Dora said. "I know what kind of trouble you would get into if you were seen doing this, but I can't even begin to imagine what kind of hell I would be in if they knew I had gotten my hands on a bow. It's probably best that we keep this quiet."

"I can keep your secret," Remus promised.

"Then I will keep yours."

* * *

"I am excited to see your progress," Dora said as she watched Remus hang the dress, wrapped in a protective bag, on the screen she always changed behind. It was one of the platitudes she always had handy.

"Before we get there, I have something else for you," he said. "You might actually be excited about it…"

He reached into his bag and brought out a package wrapped in the same cheap canvas as a bag of flour. He handed it to her and she immediately liked the weight of it. She arched an eyebrow but he just smiled, so she unwrapped the package to reveal a hunter's coat—a proper coat with fitted sleeves that wouldn't snag on arrows, leather pads along the sleeves to protect from a bowstring's snap… There was even a pair of fingerless archery gloves.

"You made this?" Dora asked.

"I can make more than gowns," Remus said. "Those are just the things that bring me to the palace."

She ran her fingers along the jacket. There were insects engraved on the buttons' surfaces. Blackberries and their leaves were embroidered at the jacket's collar.

"This is… why did you make this?"

"Because I saw what you were practising in and you—well, you looked beautiful, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't proper archery gear," Remus said. "I wondered how good you would be if you weren't worrying about snagging your sleeves."

Dora couldn't quite manage to reply, but she closed her mouth so she wouldn't look like a trout.

"How much do I owe you for this?" Dora said.

"Nothing at all," Remus said. "It is a gift. I just wanted to see you wearing it."

And so she slipped it on, and smiled when she saw that the buttons on the archery gloves also had bees engraved on them.

She kept them on when he had her try on her gown.

* * *

He was kneeling in front of her and stitching a flower on her overskirt, at a spot where he'd noticed one was missing. There was love and patience in every prick of his needle.

"How is the dress fitting, other than these missing details?" he asked. She looked down at him and bit her lip.

"Not as wonderfully as my coat, but beautifully," Dora said.

"We're not looking for beautiful," Remus said. "We want it to fit properly so that it's comfortable. You don't need much help, but we want you to be beautiful."

Dora chewed her lip. He stepped back, his eyes going over her—no, not her, his dress. Well, her dress. Her dress that she was in.

Dora sighed and straightened up, looking ahead— not at Remus and at those warm and bright brown eyes, at the nervous way he chewed his lip, examined the world around him, moved carefully…

"I think this is still a little loose," he said. "May I?"

"Of course," she said, though she hadn't listened. He reached out and started fiddling with how the fabric that made up her collar rested against her skin. There were pins in the corner of his mouth and he plucked them from his lips to push them into the folds he created in the fabric.

"Remus?" she said.

"Yes, my lady?" he said, looking up. His words were muffled by the way his lips pinched around the pins.

She reached out and plucked the pins from his lips. With her other hand, she tilted his face up and kissed him.

* * *

"You," he said, shutting the door behind him, "are getting bold."

"I've always been bold," Dora said.

"_Too _bold, then," Remus said, though he crossed the room, took her hands, and leaned in to kiss her. Dora laced her arms around his neck and pulled her closer.

"You don't like me bold?" Dora asked.

"I like you best, bold," Remus said, pressing his nose against hers. "But when your mother the Queen asks to see your gown and King Lucius wants to see the work he is paying for, and you turn them both away at the door…"

"It's so that I can do things like this," she reminded him, kissing him again.

* * *

"Owe!"

He laughed as she pricked her finger again.

"You're much clumsier than you look," Remus said. He was, once again, trying to teach her how to sew on the hem of another client's pants.

"It took far more time than you'd ever imagine to drill me into being a princess or a decent archer," Dora said.

"Well, we have time," Remus said, kissing her cheek. "Alright, let's thread your needle and try again…"

* * *

She didn't mean to do this. She didn't mean to turn up at his door in the dead of night—to take her first opportunity to slip past the guards and run to the village, giving ample opportunity to the rain and mud to bedraggle her…

"Dora," he said when he saw her, eyes wide with concern. He reached to grab her hand, pulling her inside. "Dora, you shouldn't be out, it's…"

"I'm pregnant," she said before she could stop herself.

That was when she noticed the three familiar men gathered around his kitchen table, drinking ale and eating some sort of stew.

One of them actually dropped his spoon back into his bowl at her words.

She turned back to look at Remus, who looked just as stunned—though he hadn't dropped her hand. She was eternally thankful for this, if nothing else.

* * *

"I loosened the garment's waistline," Remus whispered in her ear as he pretended to adjust the laces at her bag.

Dora took a deep breath.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Is there anything else that you need from me?" Remus asked. "Anything at all? Either today or for the next fitting or…"

She liked the feeling of his hands against her, even if it was only in the most modest and professional brushes. She liked hearing him speak out loud about the mess she was in, as if she wasn't alone. She liked…

Before she could answer, her mother burst in, wearing a dark blue gown that made her silvery blonde hair look like it shone even more.

"Marvelous," she said, pressing a hand against her heart. "Oh, Nymphadora, you look absolutely beautiful… and to think it isn't even finished! Remus, I do believe that you have outdone yourself…"

Remus stepped away, tucking the spare pins into his pocket. He bowed.

"You honour me, Queen Narcissa…"

* * *

The beauty of the dress was all mother could discuss as they took their walk around the garden that afternoon. Mother hung off Father's arm, filling him in on the skillfulness of the embroidery, the powerful dye that had yielded such strong colours, the quality of the fabric used…

"Dora, are you as happy with your gown as your mother is?" Father asked, putting a hand on the small of her back.

"Yes, My Lord," Dora said.

"I do believe we will have to keep the tailor on commission for the wedding dress," Mother said.

Dora froze and her parents took two steps ahead of her before registering this.

"I beg your pardon, Mother?" Dora asked. "I—I believe I misunderstood…"

"Narcissa," her father said, clucking his tongue. Still, he seemed in good spirits. Nearly _jolly, _which wasn't a word she used to describe her father often.

"I spoiled the surprise!" Mother said, putting a hand against her mouth.

"What surprise?" Dora asked. A wave of nausea came over her, but she knew that it was from pure horror, not from the baby. "Mother…"

"One of our allies has asked for your hand," Mother said, taking Dora's hand. "A generous offer from a mighty kingdom—with a kind, handsome, lovely young prince…"

Dora still felt like her knees were weak.

"This dress…" she said.

"We meant to surprise you," her father said. He patted her mother's hand.

Dora's knees weakened.

Her father took her hand, squeezed it, and smiled. Her mother reached up, wrapping her arms around her shoulder. Dora couldn't move or breathe in their grip. They were smothering her, they were all over her, they were…

She stepped away, more roughly than she should have but more gently than she'd wanted.

"You didn't tell me?" Dora asked. "You didn't… you didn't think I should know?"

She threw up in the rose bushes before they could elaborate.

* * *

Remus had little to no adjustments to make on her final fitting. His work was that perfect. The dress had never looked more beautiful and Dora had never felt sicker.

"I have to show you something," he said quietly. "While we're still alone…"

He took her hand and flipped the inside of the long, draping sleeve to show the words embroidered in golden thread along the edge of the sleeve.

"What does this mean?" Dora asked. Her royal education as a pureblood had taught her seven languages and an additional two that she could only speak, but she couldn't recognize these letters.

"It's the language of where I'm from," Remus said. He ran his fingers over the fabric as he read them. "'Take every stitch as a love letter because I will run out of time to adequately say 'I love you.''"

Dora took a deep, shaky breath. She reached out to cup his face. She kissed him once, twice, thrice before pressing her forehead against his. He dropped the sleeve and ran both of his hands in her hair. It may ruin how beautifully natural and laissez-faire her tumbling curls had been designed to look. She didn't care.

"I'm not done fighting," she said. "I'll find a way."

"Don't break yourself trying," Remus said. "It… it may not be there and I want you to stay well and safe. Nothing is worth endangering that..."

"You are," Dora said.

Before he could reply, a turn of the doorknob interrupted the peace and they stepped away from each other. They were very well practised at that.

* * *

She escaped from the ballroom as soon as possible. She knew she shouldn't have, she should have been better—more poised, put-together… but she felt sick. She stood on the balcony, leaving the jolly music and the chatter of the party and her _fiancé _behind. The quiet, the cool air, the slowly drifting snowflakes… it all felt better than what she'd left.

She wasn't alone long. The captain of the guard, Alastor, joined her.

"I don't want to hear it," Dora said before resting her forehead against the porch railing again.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," he said. He limped out onto the porch and sat on the bench. She watched him pick up his wooden leg and haul it onto the bench, massaging the part where limb met prosthetic.

"I was going to say that there ain't no shame in being in the wrong place at the wrong time—and that includes for how you love someone," he said, reaching into his pocket for a piece of wood and a carving knife.

Her heart froze. How did he..?

"You know that everyone calls you Mad-Eye, don't you?" Dora said, in a desperate attempt to change the subject and get him away. It was quite possibly the rudest thing she had ever said to anyone, much less her old friend.

"Aye," Alastor said. "It's my eye that's mad, not my mind, so listen. Sometimes, you're in the wrong life to love the right person. There ain't no shame in that."

"What if it's not about shame," Dora said. "What if… what if it's about trying to breathe in your own life? You've never worn a corset, Mad-Eye, but there's nothing worse than living life like you have one fused into your flesh—knowing you'll never be able to take it off and breathe because that would mean slipping out of your own skin."

"Your mother used to say that to me all the time," Mad-Eye said. He was casually whittling away at the piece of wood.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" she asked, turning back towards him. "My parents—my parents love each other. They grew up playing together in the palace gardens and their betrothal was a cause for celebration across the kingdom..."

"That's the king and queen's story, yes," Mad-Eye said. He paused his whittling and gave her a look that was remarkably piercing given his one eye.

"Speak plainly," she told him. It sounded like an order and she winced. "Sorry, I mean… What are you saying?"

"Your parents' story," Mad-Eye said. "As I remember them. Did it never seem suspicious to you that there was an incredible change in palace staff just before you were born, Milady?"

"The sickness ran through the palace that year," Dora said. "I was lucky to be born alive…"

Mad-Eye clucked his tongue.

"A good lie, but they couldn't get rid of all the guards—too valuable, too difficult to train and replace… so there's me, who remembers."

"What do you know?".

"You make me think of your mother," Mad-Eye said. "She was quite a bit better at keeping herself bottled up and quiet than you—a storm in a bottle where you're just a storm on the horizon, waiting to happen, but a storm nonetheless. They pushed and pushed her 'til she snapped, and with a clap of lightning she disappeared—except she had a stableboy, not a tailor."

Dora straightened up and turned to Mad-Eye.

"How dare you," she said. "My mother, the queen of this land, she is... nothing but perfect—the perfect queen, the perfect wife, the perfect…"

"She is a lie, my lady," Mad-Eye said. "Did you never calculate that you were only born five months after the king and queen married?"

"They're my parents," Dora snapped. "Call them my parents!"

"It means that you were either born early, unlikely given your good health, conceived out of wedlock, unlikely given how prim and proper the royals are, or that you weren't born of the king and queen at all."

Dora was about to fight back, but all of a sudden she couldn't.

She rested a hand on her stomach, thinking of the lies she'd imagined for this little one already…

She drifted closer to Mad-Eye and sat by him.

"Tell me everything," she asked.

* * *

"You didn't think I should know?" Dora said, leaning in her parents' doorframe, still wearing the beautiful green dress.

Her mother turned away from the vanity.

"Nymphadora, lovely," Narcissa said, standing. She was only wearing half her jewellery and a great deal of the pins holding up her hairdo had been pulled out.

"Nymphadora," Lucius added, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the foot of their bed before circling over to come back to her.

"Sweetheart, you were ill this morning, you shouldn't be wearing a corset longer than necessary…" Narcissa said. When she reached her, Dora swatted Narcissa's hand away.

"Tell me about my mother," Dora said.

"What?" Narcissa said, paling. She looked more shocked than hurt.

"Nymphadora!" Lucius said. "Don't speak to your mother that way…"

"Andromeda," Dora said. "Tell me about Andromeda _now." _

The slap across her cheek surprised her, but Dora didn't recoil and she didn't step back. _Strong. Like a warrior queen. _

"Where did you hear that name in my castle?" Narcissa hissed.

"It doesn't matter," Dora said. "You would not have that look in your eyes if it didn't matter… it's true, isn't it? You aren't my parents at all…"

"Your mother was a whore," Narcissa snapped. "A whore raised just me but too stupid to know her place, her duty, the rules she had to follow, and the standards she had to meet…"

"Where is she?" Dora said, trembling. "What happened to her, what did you do to her?"

"She left," Lucius said. "She left once we got our hands on that boy of hers, which cleared the way for your—for Narcissa to step in and save this family's purity, its status, its wealth…"

"Oh my God," Dora breathed. "She…"

"She had you in the basement of this palace and left you to save that boy," Narcissa said. "We saved you."

"No," Dora said, shaking her head. "You didn't… she may have left, but did she have a choice? Could she breathe? Did you let her breathe?"

"What are you saying?" Lucius asked. "Nymphadora, settle down…"

"Stand back," she said. She drew a hunting knife from her gown's hidden pocket. When Remus had told her that he'd make a dress fit for a warrior, the man had taken his words literally.

"Nymphadora!" Narcissa said. "Nymphadora…"

"Stand back," Dora said. "Stand back because I can't breathe and I'm… I'm going to breathe."

* * *

When she went to him, she had a bag and an embroidered coat around her shoulders, a bow, three arrows, and stolen boots stuffed with rags on her feet. The green dress, as beautiful as it was, had been left. She'd made sure to cut off the sleeve though, so she could bring Remus' words with her. If she failed tonight, then at least his words would be with her.

He pulled her into the little cottage, saying something about the weather and the snowflakes in her hair.

Dora just melted against him. There were sparkles in his hair, as if he'd been working on a garment, and the measuring tape was wrapped around his neck. She breathed in the smell of him, mostly pine from the woods, and she resolved to always be close enough to breathe him in.

"We need to go," she said.

"What?" Remus asked. "Dora, it's…"

"You need to pack a bag and bring your sewing kit and we have to find your friends," she said. "I have two palace horses. Alastor gave me an address and he's holding back the guards for as long as he can… they don't know about the baby, but if they catch me they will."

"What?" Remus asked. "Wait, I can ask questions as we ride…"

* * *

"Are you ready for this?" Remus asked. They had dismounted from their horses and he held their reins. She gently ran her hand along the horse's flank while staring at the little cottage and its ivy-covered walls.

"You don't have to do this," Remus said quietly. "James wrote that they're still looking for you back home, but we can ride to another county. I can set up another shop, build up business, we can make a life for ourselves…"

"No," Dora said. "I dragged you away promising a safe place, I owe you… I owe you to try."

She didn't add that the baby growing and straining against her dress was making riding more difficult and uncomfortable and painful.

"You don't owe me anything," Remus said, reaching out and brushing his hand across her cheek. "I do," Dora said. "And I… I want to meet her, since she… well, she gave me the strength to run away and breathe. I owe her a thank you."

"Okay," Remus said. He leaned in and kissed her softly, cupping her cheek and then dropping his hand down to brush her baby bump as he'd gotten into the habit of doing. "I will wait."

Dora nodded and she swung her quiver over her shoulder. She picked up the hem of her skirt as she walked, out of habit from when she was made to wear gowns around the palace instead of the functional work skirts Remus made her. She knocked on the cottage's door and fidgeted with her skirts and with her braid as she waited for an answer.

The woman who answered had light brown curls piled on top of her head. Her eyelids were heavy, as if she was tired, but her eyes were kind. For a second, Dora was shocked because… well, she wasn't quite staring into a reflection, but the patrician beauty and aristocratic features and posture… Dora had it too.

"Wotcher," Dora said. She would never have been allowed to use this expression before, but she'd heard it in a tavern and quite liked it now. "My name is… I don't know if you gave it to me but my name is Dora—Nymphadora."

Andromeda looked back at her, stunned. A shaking hand reached out and touched Dora's cheek.

"That name is the only thing I was able to give before they took you from me," she said, her words shaking. "I… Ted… Ted, the door—come to the door!"

And just like that, Andromeda broke into tears and wrapped her arms around Dora, clinging to her as she sobbed.

Dora buried her face in Andromeda's hair as well.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts; Link Maker; Spring Bingo

**Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Slytherin MC; Artist MC; Disabled; Setting Sail; Knightly Era (Y); Old Shoes; Long Haul; Greatest Gift; Rian-Russo Inversion

**Word Count: **

* * *

_**Spring Bingo**_

**Space (Prompt): **2B (Green)

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Spring Micro 1 (Different Era AU)


	10. Soul Mark AU: Through The Blur

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #8, Criminology Task #4 Write about someone who doesn't notice or realize something important.

**Beta: **Aya! Thank you kindly :D

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Soul Mark!AU (1)

* * *

**Through The Blur **

Remus was happy for James. Really, he was.

Just like he was happy for Peter when Mary McDonald finally took matters into her own hands, asked him out to dinner, and brought him into a relationship he never would have been brave enough to start on his own. Just like he was happy for Sirius when he met Kingsley (although, to be fair, Sirius could have thought of a more elegant way to meet his soulmate than get into a drunken fight with the bouncer at one of his regular gay bars).

All around Remus, his friends were using their soulmarks like road maps to find the people they would spend the rest of their lives with and it was working well. Marlene and Dorcas' wedding invitations had the same sunflowers blooming across the pages that both women had between their shoulder blades. Harry had just turned five months old and absolutely loved playing peekaboo now that he had some object permanence going for him. His favourite soft toy was a stuffed lion that evoked the proud and roaring beasts on his parents' backs. Sirius had finally bit the bullet and moved in with Kingsley, no matter how afraid of change he'd been, and was absolutely thriving.

He was happy for them, but it was at times like these where he was babysitting Harry on Valentine's Day—two days after the full moon when he was still sore and stiff from the change—that Remus couldn't help but resent living in a world with soulmarks in it. He didn't like himself for thinking that way, especially since Harry was a pretty cool baby by anybody's standards, but thought he did.

"We'll be okay," Remus smiled at Lily, Harry propped up in his arms. He waved the baby's little hand around. "Say goodbye, Harry. And tell your parents to get out of here before they miss their reservation…"

"Be good for Uncle Moony, sweetheart," Lily said, leaning down to kiss the baby's nose. She stood on her toes to kiss Remus' cheek next. "Thank you, Remus."

"Seriously, thank you," James said.

"Anytime," Remus said—which he meant. He loved his little nephew, even if he was about to start teething and thus even more slobbery than usual.

"Cheers," James said, kissing Harry's forehead before resting a hand on Lily's lower back and gently steering her out the door.

Remus had babysat enough that Harry didn't seem too traumatized about this turn of events. He chewed on his fist and looked around the room with those big emerald green eyes of his that were so uncannily like Lily's no matter how young he was.

"Alright," Remus said, gently taking the baby's fist out of his mouth. "If you're going to be teething, let's get you a pacifier or something better to chew on than your own limbs… come on, sweet pea."

* * *

Since Sirius had moved out, Remus essentially had the flat to himself. His landlady had promised not to make him pay full rent until one of them found a new tenant for Sirius' old room, but the building they lived in inspired little to no confidence or potential new roommates. Remus liked to call the building the Burrow, because of how cozy and mismatched it was due to all the new additions and reparations and fixes. Really, he wouldn't have it any other way though.

Remus enjoyed living alone, really. He missed Sirius, since they'd basically lived together since both being sorted into Gryffindor, but he liked the quietness of the flat. Not to mention the fact that with Sirius gone, nobody cranked the thermostat to unspeakable temperatures or left fingerprints on the window by the chair where Remus liked to read.

Still, Molly had warned him that she would be showing the flat today, so Remus had made sure to tidy up. There wasn't much to do since he was rather neat—Sirius had been the tornado keeping the flat in a perpetual state of disaster.

Naturally, Molly brought Remus a loaf of banana bread when she stopped by, and she had one of her sons, Charlie today, trailing her. The woman she'd brought with her had magenta hair put up in a high bun so Remus could see how the sides of her head had been shaved. Piercings lined her ears and a septum piercing underscored her nose.

"Remus, dear," Molly said, giving him a quick and motherly hug. "Turn up the heat, love, or you'll freeze! Is that leaky tap giving you any trouble? Did we finally manage to fix it?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Remus said.

"Molly," she corrected him with a gentle slap to the arm. "Don't go giving Tonks here any ideas about calling me 'Mrs. Weasley' or anything. Tonks, love, this is Remus—he's the current tenant."

"Wotcher," she said, offering a smile that showed him yet another piercing on the tip of her tongue. She held out her hand and Remus shook it.

"A pleasure," Remus said.

"Do you have any new books?" Charlie piped up.

"I do," Remus said. Really, they were just manuscripts—usually of books about magical creatures—that various publishers sent to Remus for copyediting. It was nice work that Remus could do quietly and remotely throughout the month, which made it perfect for someone like him. Charlie absolutely loved them.

"Why don't you sit tight while I show Tonks around?" Molly asked, patting Charlie's head.

Remus fixed Charlie a quick cup of hot chocolate before setting him up with a book about Grindylows in the living room. The little boy had all sorts of questions about the mechanics of how Grindylows managed to breathe underwater, which kept them pretty busy chatting. Charlie asked if he could colour in the black-and-white sketches of the manuscript and Remus didn't see why not, so he dug up some coloured ink and an assortment of quills for her. From the other room, he heard Molly and Tonks going over rent and organizing a date upon which she could move in.

* * *

Tonks was pretty easy to live with. She was great, actually. They settled in a really great morning routine (Remus woke up, showered, and had the coffee waiting and the bathroom all cleared up by the time she came home from her run). On Sundays, they cooked food for the week together (she was eager to learn how but tended to burn toast). They both listened to the same radio programs on Wednesdays and rooted for the same Quidditch teams. They both liked the apartment on the cooler side and would rather freeze to death than pay for heat. They laughed about their flat's incongruities and quirks. They MacGyvered ways to fix the tap to avoid stressing out Molly.

And on this particular Friday night, when Tonks was too exhausted after a 12 hour shift to go out with friends as planned but desperately needed a drink, they were drunk and sitting on the rickety porch together. It was drizzling, but the way that the raindrops blurred the city lights and echoed off the pavement below them cocooned Remus. More than anything, the rain felt welcoming and soothing—more than a fair price to pay for damp socks. Maybe that was the alcohol talking.

Her hair was a shade of mustard yellow that complemented the warm brown of her eyes and the dark beauty spot at the corner of her lips. Her hair was packed up on the top of her head and she'd been walking around the flat in a sports bra and sweats since lugging herself home. That, and she had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders to wear like a cape.

She must have caught his eyes on her ribs where a circle containing waves decorated her skin.

"It's my soulmark," Tonks explained. "Not a tattoo. I'm a little afraid of getting a tattoo, honestly, in case I can't morph myself out of it."

"It's beautiful," Remus said. "Fluid and steady but always changing, just like you."

"Such deep thoughts," she said, though she smiled and changed her hair to a new shade of pine green as if to prove his point. She took the bottle of wine from his hands and took a swig. "What's your soulmark? I don't think I've ever seen it."

Remus might have lied to her, ordinarily, but he _had _just taken another swig of wine. Besides, Alice and Frank had just announced that they were expecting a second baby—so Remus was feeling particularly desperately romantic.

"I don't have one," he said.

"Impossible," Tonks said. "Everyone has one."

"I... well, I do, but it's gone," Remus said. "It was… It was destroyed when I was bitten. My shoulder—it's all scar tissue, really. I was so young that it never healed properly, still gives me trouble sometimes. You can tell that something was there but it's impossible to tell what it was through the blur."

A beat passed.

"I'm sorry," Tonks said. She took another swig of wine before passing the bottle back to Remus.

* * *

Charlie was colouring in manuscript pages decorated with diagrams of phoenix feathers today.

"This looks like my mama and dad's soul marks," he said conversationally.

"The phoenix or the feathers?" Tonks asked.

"Both," Charlie said. "They're lucky, they have two. I have one but Dad says that's enough if I do it right. Look."

He rolled up his jumper sleeve and showed them the mark near his elbow. It looked like a fang to Remus. An unusual mark, but its distinctiveness would serve Charlie well when he was old enough to care about it, if nothing else.

"Nice," Tonks said. "That's a cool one."

"Alright," Molly said, reappearing in the living room. She had a toolbox propped up on her hip and the other rested over her baby bump. "Oh, Charlie, were you supposed to colour on that?"

"We gave him that, it's alright Mrs.—"

"Molly," Tonks whispered hastily.

"Molly," Remus corrected himself.

"Well I hope you said thank you, love," Molly said, shooting her son a fond smile. "Are you ready to get going, now? I think we've left daddy alone with your other brothers for long enough..."

"Yes Mama," Charlie said.

"Thank you for having us, sorry about the sink again," Molly said.

"You should show us how to fix it one day for ourselves," Tonks suggested.

"Nonsense, love, that's not your job," Molly said. She patted down Charlie's hair affectionately. "Alright, well, close the door behind me, loves—let me know if it breaks again!"

Molly let herself out and left them alone sitting at the living room coffee table with the manuscript pages Charlie hadn't scribbled over.

Remus took a deep breath and Tonks looked him over for a second.

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" she said, pushing a strand of magenta hair behind her ear. The simple motion sent her chandelier earrings tinkling. "All this stuff about soul marks?"

"It…" Remus took a deep breath. "I know it's silly, but it does."

"You realize that not having the mark doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate, right?" Tonks said. "I mean, you _have _a mark, it's just… hard to see or whatever. That doesn't mean you won't be able to—to meet your soulmate or interact with them or anything."

"I know," Remus said. "It's just… It's just one more way that I'm different, you know?"

"That's the point of soulmarks though, isn't it?" Tonks said. "To be different from everyone else, so that like can recognize like."

* * *

Remus had been babysitting Harry again and Tonks had worked a monstrously long shift on Valentine's Day, so they weren't in a very romantic mood. They _were, _however, in the mood to eat terrible store-bought chocolate and plough through their flat's liquor cabinet. It was too cold to sit on the porch, so they were sitting near the glass doors and watching the snow on the roads turn to slush under the freezing rain.

"At least the weather's piss poor," Remus said. "You know? Being alone on Valentine's Day would be worse if the snow was fluffy and romantic as if we were in some snowglobe…"

"We're not alone on Valentine's Day," Tonks said. She was colouring in spare pages loitering the coffee table with childsafe markers that they'd finally caved and invested in for when Charlie or another of the Weasley kids came over. She was a little too tipsy to draw within the lines, unfortunately. "We're together."

"You know what I mean," Remus said.

"No, I don't actually," Tonks said. She took a substantial gulp straight from the bottle of tequila that made Remus wince. She _hated _tequila. This would not go well in the morning.

"We're _together, _Remus," Tonks said. "And we could be together!"

"You just said that we are," Remus said. Maybe he was drunker than he'd thought he was. 3:00 a.m. on a Friday night or Saturday morning was such a liminal space to begin with, Remus had a hard time telling.

"But we could be… if you weren't so worried about the blurriness and you just did something because you could instead of wondering if you should…" She clucked her tongue and coloured more aggressively. He was worried she'd break Charlie's markers. She'd bleed through the parchment, at any rate.

"I have no idea what you're saying," Remus said.

"Because you don't listen," Tonks mumbled. "You're so good with kids and you're so observant and detail-oriented that you can see all the spelling mistakes and inaccuracies in the world, but you're also so… so thick. No, not thick, you're smart. Too smart, you overthink things when you should just _do _things."

"I do do things," Remus said through a mouthful of chocolate. Chocolate, he was eating chocolate. That was something.

"You should do something, if you're so lonely," Tonks said. She waved the marker at him. "Nobody cares that the bite blurs up your soulmark except for you. Don't get me wrong, it sucks that you got bitten, especially when you were so young. But nobody cares about not knowing except for you. Other people would just… trust their guts. You're kind of great, so other people would be lucky and happy to just be with you because they could without needing a sign from the world to confirm that they were in the right place."

"You don't know that," Remus mumbled.

Tonks rolled her eyes, grabbed his arm, and pulled up the sleeve of his sweater past the elbow. She drew a circle on the inside of his forearm and filled it with rolling waves.

"There," she said. "There's your sign if you need it so badly. Now kiss me, Lupin."

He looked at the mark on his arm. It was scribbled onto his skin with childsafe marker— green childsafe marker at that—so it could easily be wiped off. But when he looked up at her he… he didn't want to.

He wanted to kiss her and so he did.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts; Link Maker; Spring Bingo

**Challenge(s): **Beauty in the Abstract; Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; LEO MC; Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); Small Fry; Setting Sail; Old Shoes; Short Jog

**Word Count: **2494

* * *

_**Spring Bingo**_

**Space (Prompt): **5C (Rain/Drizzle)

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Spring Micro 1 (Soul Marks AU)


	11. WWII AU: An Exchange of Keys

**Author's Note: **Hello! As an FYI there's a historical note waiting for you at the bottom of this fill :D Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition. The poem you see here is by Emily Dickinson as well.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #10, Women's History Task #2, Write a World War II!AU

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **WWII

* * *

**An Exchange of Keys **

Remus was not sure if his next meal would be breakfast or dinner and, quite frankly, he was good enough at ignoring the rumbling of his stomach not to care too much. Besides, when he was this deeply embedded in a project or task he was impossible to pry away. His fellow cryptanalysts—even Peter, James, and Sirius—had stepped out of the office for their breaks but had left him alone at his desk.

No matter how all-consuming his work was, he _did _notice a new presence in the office. There was a woman standing in the office's entrance, wearing a dark green uniform jacket. Her mousy brown hair was set in two reverse rolls on either side of her heart-shaped face before being tied back in a neat chignon at the nape of her neck. Otherwise her uniform was immaculate; the white collar she wore under her jacket was crisp and pressed, her tie neatly knotted, and the skirt that ended just below her knee perfectly pleated. One of her arms was cradled against her chest in a sling, the other held a teacup on a saucer. Her wide brown eyes were scanning the corkboard by the door, which was covered in quite sensitive information—maps of occupied France, announcements and messages from the higher-ups, promising drafts and algorithms that they were keeping from later…

"Excuse me," Remus spoke up. His free hand reached for the pistol in the top drawer of his desk, just in case. "Are you authorized to be here?"

"I am," she said. She reached in her jacket and flashed Remus a badge that he couldn't quite see from this far away. Still, she held it up confidently and long enough to give Remus time to examine it. She inspired far more confidence when she added, "Commander Moody grounded me here while I wait for safe passage back to London. I am not very useful with a broken arm."

"I see," Remus said.

"He thought that perhaps I would enjoy visiting the facility, as I am not very often here. Then again, he also said he would lock me in the basement if I disrupted hisoperations," she added—which was intensely reassuring to Remus since yes, that was exactly something that Moody would say. "So please, Don't mind me. As you were."

Remus hesitated but turned back to the code before him. He was fairly certain that he had found his point of entry—the tiny sliver of sense in the scrambled nonsense of a code that might give him an opportunity to understand and read the rest. In a simple code, for example, perhaps it was a frequently used letter or a frequently repeated syllable that indicated a commonly used term or letter. If he tugged at it properly, the entire code would unravel like a sweater. Or maybe it wouldn't. If he was truly on the right path, Remus had already unscrambled four levels of security in the nonsensical message he had started with. Then again, perhaps he was wrong and he was merely rearranging the alphabetical soup before him into a new equally soupy sequence.

The possibility bothered Remus; they had already missed the mark on four of the messages that had been smuggled or leaked to them. It frustrated him, that they kept losing the messages. They had either never managed to properly decode the chaotic gibberish they had been written in, or they had been too late in unraveling their meanings and relevance—and every time, the code changed ever so slightly as Vichy France's troops went on with their business.

Part of the work that went behind decoding was an acceptance that you could sink weeks or months into trying to understand a cypher, only for it to all be for nothing. Remus sometimes felt achingly close to putting order in the chaos before him only to have Commander Moody put him on another task as their unit's needs changed. But every letter before Remus seemed to take on more weight as the war went on.

When he looked up again, the woman had drifted across the room. She was now at the desk where James sat, putting his noble education to use by translating documents from French or German to English. Stacks of papers and folders piled one on top of the other littered the desk, and the woman's eyes were wandering again. She had put down the teacup's saucer so that she could drink with her unbroken arm.

"Excuse me," Remus asked again. She turned to look at him. He wasn't sure how to explain what he had to say next; he was still adjusting to the military's ways of speaking and being. He decided to simply be frank. "I… pardon me, but I'm having trouble placing you. The decoders and cryptanalysts, we don't usually wear uniforms."

"I'm not one of you," she said. Her fingertips brushed the paperwork on James' desk—equations and letters connected by lines in charcoal and ink. Then, she crossed the floor and held out her hand to shake his. "Lieutenant Nymphadora Black Tonks."

"Remus Lupin," he said. "I… I taught mathematics before being recruited to His Majesty's Services."

"Wonderful," she said. "I was always rubbish at mathematics."

"Another reason why you are definitely not a cryptanalyst, then," Remus said.

Lieutenant Black Tonks laughed.

"I'm an intelligence officer," she said. "And I'm quite good at that, which is a relief."

"It's curious that we haven't met, then," Remus said. He had been decoding since the war had started. He was not a healthy man—a particularly strong or fast or robust man. But he was clever and patient and persistent, and was happy that there was a way for those strengths to help as the world broke into war.

"We have, in a way," the Lieutenant said. She crossed her arms and smiled, nudging her chin towards the paperwork on his desk. "My codename is Giselle."

Remus looked down at the code he had been wrestling with and then back to the lieutenant, jaw slack.

"You… you're Giselle, then?" he asked. "The spy feeding us, well, most of our best information..."

"You'll have to confirm what that bit of paper says before we can be quite sure, but I've been posing undercover as a maid in a lovely little hotel that the Nazis have decided to set up shop in," she said.

"I've decoded most of the intelligence you bring back," Remus admitted. It came in at 6:30 a.m. sharp—Remus didn't know the mechanism of delivery; just knew that one of Commander Moody's clerks brought Remus the code every morning as his tea steeped.

"Have you?" she said, smiling. "Well then I'm glad we met before Moody sent me back home, then. I don't think I'll be posted here again; I got into quite a nasty bar fight and got fired from my supposed job to get that last message to you. If it's half as rich as what Moody expects it is, then it will all have been worth it"

"I'm still working on it," Remus admitted. He sighed. "We're hoping to extract a key from it, so that we can understand future messages better and more easily."

"I take it from your tone that it's not going well," she said.

"If it were easy to speak the language of Vichy France's intelligence, we wouldn't still be here fighting a war," Remus said.

"I suppose that's true," Nymphadora said. "And what boring lives you and I would lead then."

Remus smiled and eyed the code again.

"The trouble here is that I think you have brought back a message which does not use a symmetric key," Remus said.

She looked around the office—the chalkboards covered in chalk, the folders full of intercepted messages that still hadn't been looked at, baskets full of expired papers…

"Let's pretend that I am very good at getting into places I have no business and then behaving poorly—but that I don't know very much about codes, aside from how to obtain them," she said.

"Oh, yes, of course," Remus said. "Very sorry."

"No, not at all,. Dora said. "I admit I don't spend much time thinking about where the intelligence I recover goes once I pass it on. Come to think of it, I suppose it isn't quite intelligence until it's been through you lot and made useful. I would love to learn."

"A key is what we use to encrypt or decrypt messages," Remus said. "Some keys are simple, say—Morse code."

"Dits and dots in different sequences each correspond to a letter of the alphabet," she said.

"Exactly," Remus said. "Some are more complicated, for example… mmm… Let me show you how a Beale cipher works. Do you have a favourite line of poetry, perchance?"

She arched an eyebrow, but Remus passed her a pen and paper. She wrote it down. When she returned the pad to Remus, he immediately began numbering the letters in the poem, skipping repetitions. He didn't necessarily have to, but it was a preference of his and he thought it worked quite well as he surveyed the piece of poetry she had given him.

_Had I not seen the Sun_

_I could have borne the shade_

_But Light a newer Wilderness_

_My Wilderness has made_

"Right; let's number all the letters in the poem. H would be 1," Remus explained. "A 2, D 3, I 4, N 5, O 6, T 7, S 8, and so on, and so forth."

"What about the letters that aren't in the poem?"

"Well that would be for you and I to decide together, if we were corresponding," Remus said.

"How exciting," Nymphadora smiled. Remus blushed and tried to ignore the fact that corresponding with a spy… well, it most likely _would _be very exciting.

"Yes, well, perhaps we would pick a larger text, one where all the letters appeared. Perhaps we would round up all the letters that don't appear in your poem and assign them numbers. But for our purpose now, let's try to write something simple…"

He wrote down the name GISELLE and added a number above each letter.

1 12 12 9.

"Were I sending that message I would give you a different name, to avoid repeating letters and making the code any easier to crack than it must be," Remus said. "And of course, we could have further subcategorized the letters by word to add an extra layer of protection. This is a rather simple Beale cipher—the name of this kind of cipher, but you get the idea of it."

"Hmm," she said. "I… I did not expect to wake up this morning and write my name with a poem."

"Right," Remus nodded. "Well, in this case, your favourite poem would be our key for both encryption and decryption. You would look at the poem to write your name and I would look at the poem to turn the numbers into letters. I suspect that one key was used to encrypt this message, but we need another one to decrypt it."

She furrowed her brow.

"Imagine that I showed you my favourite poem, and we numbered all the letters in the same way," Remus said. "In your poem, 'd' was represented by the letter 3. In mine, it would be 1. You would scramble the letters of the message you wanted to read with my key, and then scramble those scramble letters according to your key. It's… it's complicated, and the codes that we're dealing with aren't Beale ciphers at all."

"I don't envy your job," she said.

"I promise it's easier when you hold multiple degrees in mathematics and dabbled in linguistics," Remus said. "Well, somewhat."

She laughed. She picked up the pad of paper and perched herself on the corner of his desk, awkwardly balancing the paper on her leg as she wrote with her good hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Writing you more poetry," she said. "I'm going to want to hear more from you."

She pulled the piece of paper from the top of the notepad and folded it in two, tucking it into the breast pocket of his button-down shirt. Then, she passed the paper back to him expectantly.

"Well," she finally said. "What was that poem you liked where D equaled 1?"

Remus smiled and took the pen and paper from her, scribbling out the words.

When he handed the paper back to her she smiled before folding it up and tucking it into her uniform blouse.

"A very good poem," she said. She slid off his desk. "I'll be expecting some very good letters then while I rot in London and wait for my next assignment."

Before Remus could answer, she slipped away just as his colleagues filed back in. It was as if Remus blinked and she was gone. James had brought Remus a cup of tea and dropped it on his desk.

"Who was that?" James asked.

"Her name is Giselle," Remus said. "She's an old friend."

* * *

**Quick note because this recovering history major would rather jump out a window than write a historical AU without a note on context.** First off, yes, _The Imitation Game _is one of my favourite movies. Secondly, I want to note the gendered dynamics of this fill; while women definitely worked as spies during the Second World War, there were also a disproportionate amount of women who worked as clerks, translators, and codebreakers to supply and navigate various intelligence reports. Many women faced everyday sexism while doing this kind of work, were barred from advancing and growing in their positions due to educational barriers, and the overflow of women in this sector came from a perception that this behind-the-scene work was dull, repetitive, and unheroic. Anyways, I'd encourage you to give "women codebreakers WWII" a quick Google! It's all very interesting. There's tons of resources about code breaking during the Second World War if you're interested, but let it be known that I did make up the Vichy France operation entirely.

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Word count:** 2177

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Spring Micro 1 (Hackers/Programmers AU)


	12. Ancient Egypt: No Matter How Many Pieces

**Author's Note: **Hello! This one's inspired by the myth of Osiris and Isis, the Egyptian queen of the gods who hunted down the pieces of her husband's body to put him back together after he was murdered by his brother Set. In some versions of the myth Horus, their son, is born already and in others he isn't. And yes; the myth ultimately ends with Osiris realizing that he could not rule over the mortal world and becoming King of the Afterlife. But I'm going to let these two be happy, just this once. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #11, Lineage Studies Task #2, Write about someone searching for a long-lost family member

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Egyptian Mythology or God/Goddess

* * *

**No Matter How Many Pieces **

She transformed from her form as a swift and powerful kite seconds before her feet touched the ground. A few brown feathers had dislodged from her wings before she had transformed and had drifted to the ground around her feet. She landed softly and immediately looked down at the baby, still strapped to her chest, quietly trying to catch her hair. She ran a hand over his own head, pushing back the curls he had inherited from his father unbeknownst to either of them.

"Well done, little one," she whispered encouragingly. It broke her heart to raise her son in hushes and silences, but she knew it was necessary if they were to have any chance to succeed—and their mission was more important. Teddy could laugh and jump and play and sing to his heart's desire once his father was back, and that would be soon.

She reached for the purse strapped to her belt to see if it was still there. She felt the last piece of her husband's heart humming and warming under her fingertips and smiled to herself.

It would be so, so soon.

Under the cover of night, she pushed her way through the shallow water and the reeds to the place where the coffin was kept hidden. She prayed every day that it wouldn't be found, but who she was praying to she didn't know. Her husband was usually the one who handled prayers; she was quite bad at sending them into the universe. She had had to become good at a lot of things ever since Peter had turned on them—on Remus, who had once been his brother. She had become good at hiding like the disgraced queen that she was, as good at mothering as she could be under the conditions, good at looking through the world, good at flying for nights on end, good at keeping an eye out, good at searching, good at healing…

Nymphadora tried to reassure herself with the thought that at least, unlike James and Lily and Sirius, the two of them weren't lost forever. The pantheon had been so deeply wounded by his treason, but not was all lost. Not for them, at least, and that had to give her hope.

Nymphadora looked around carefully one more time before lifting the lid of the sarcophagus before her. Her husband was laying in it—dead but not quite dead, alive but just barely, peacefully as if he were sleeping but bearing signs of the violence that had been done to him. She had done her best to put him back together, finding the pieces of his wounded body and broken soul across the world as they knew it, but she expected that he would always bear the scars. Still, her husband was not a vain god—even by human standards, he would be quite humble. She was sure he wouldn't mind.

The last piece of his soul hummed even more vibrantly in her pocket, as if it sensed that its brothers and sisters were close. Nymphadora rapidly obliged its call to join them. She waved her hand and brought into being a toy—a doll folded out of papyrus leaves—to keep the baby busy while she worked. Once he was happily chewing on his new toy, she knelt by the sarcophagus and reached into her pocket.

Souls were light and brighter than they seemed. She opened her hand and the piece hovered above her skin, warm and familiar to her touch like a lover's breath—which, she supposed, it basically was. Of its own accord, the soulstuff drifted away from her and towards Remus' broken body. It settled on his lips and disappeared instantly before he began coughing.

His eyes immediately widened and he shot up, as if waking up from a nightmare.

Nymphadora thought she was waking up from a nightmare. She held the baby against herself for something to do with her hands as she watched him come into being. She watched his eyes, brown and genuine and soft; and then she watched his lips part slightly in incredulity… and finally he turned to her and looked at her most astonished of all.

"It's you," he said.

"It's me," she agreed. And for the first time since Peter had tried to kill him, Nymphadora truly did feel like she was herself.

"You put me back together," he said. "You… how long did this take you?"

"It doesn't matter," Nymphadora said. Her heart could have melted out of her chest. It wouldn't have mattered if it did; he would have been there to catch it all. She wasn't alone anymore. "Darling, it's good to see you alive!"

"Alive, I… I don't know if I'm alive like this," Remus said, looking at his hands. They were criss-crossed with fissures and scars, like a vase put back together. Still, he didn't pay much attention to himself. He was looking at Teddy now, and he reached out as if to touch him. "Is that..? Some pieces of me remember seeing him. They whispered about him to the others as you put me back together. He's..?"

"Ours," Nymphadora said, her stomach clenching as she said so. Teddy turned to look at his father, this stranger he was seeing for the first time, still chewing on his papyrus doll. Remus, meanwhile, looked stunned. He reached out his hand and brushed the baby's cheeks with his fingertips.

"I can't believe you made him," Remus whispered. "I can't believe you made me."

"I told you that I would be there for you when you were at your worst," Nymphadora said. She reached out and cupped his cheek in her hand, ecstatic to find him warm and ecstatic to find a pulse in her neck and a heartbeat in his chest when her hand drifted down. "How many pieces you were broken into mattered little to me."

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Word count:** 978

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Summer Micro 1 (God/Goddess AU)


	13. Veterinary AU: Puppy Love

**Author's Note: **

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Veterinarian!AU

* * *

**Puppy Love**

"Remus we're so sorry!" Lily blurted as soon as he walked into the examination room.

"Is he okay?" Remus blurted back. "Please tell me he's okay, James could only bother to text me _your dog ate chocolate." _

"James!" Lily chided, elbowing him.

"It's what happened!" James muttered.

Remus wasn't listening to him; his eyes were focused on the big black mutt lounging on the exam table, his leash dangling off his collar. His tail started wagging when he saw Remus and his tongue dropped out of his mouth, like whenever the big dope got excited.

"Oh thank God, Sirius," Remus said, entering the room. Sirius sat up, panting happily, as Remus ran a hand down his head and ruffled the fur between his ears. Sirius pawed Remus' arm and licked his face.

"What do I tell you about helping yourself to things from the fridge?" Remus said. "Not to do it, you silly pup. It's just a very bad idea all around…"

He looked over his shoulder, still running his hands through Sirius' shaggy fur, to talk to Lily.

"What did he eat?" Remus asked.

"We made you a double chocolate cheesecake as a welcome home surprise," Lily said. She was twisting her hands together and her big green eyes looked miserable. "He got into the fridge and ate about half of it."

Remus turned back to look at his dog. Sirius looked up at him, panting happily.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, you dumbass," Remus said sternly. "I can't leave you alone with your favourite dog sitters to go to _one _mandatory work conference, can I?"

"I'm sorry, Remus," Lily said.

"It's not your fault," Remus said. "Dogs aren't supposed to be able to open fridge doors."

"Yours is just that special," James said.

"What did the vet say?" Remus asked.

"She gave him something to make him throw it up," James said. "She should be back any minute with…"

The door opened and a woman in pastel yellow scrubs and a white coat came in. Her hair stuck up in spikes and its magenta colouring was so piercing and even that Remus could have sworn it was her natural colour, even if there was no way it was.

"Good news," she said, shutting the door behind her with a kick. "His bloodwork came back nice and clean, which means he's out of the woods for any poisoning."

Her sapphire blue eyes turned to focus on Remus.

"Well hello," she said. "You must be…"

"Remus," he said. "I'm, umm, Sirius is mine."

"Right," she said. "I'm Tonks, I've been working on Sirius. The good news is that he should be fine. His blood work is clean, his physical was good—I don't see any reason to anticipate any major problems. Keep an eye on him for signs of toxicity in case anything got into his bloodstream before we induced vomiting. I've got a pamphlet with signs and symptoms here, should I give that to your two dog sitters or…"

"No, I can take it," he said. "Thank you so much for helping him, if something had happened to him…"

Remus felt himself blushing. There was no need to tell the vet that Sirius was his best friend in the entire world, and that Remus wouldn't know what to do with himself if something happened to his idiotic mutt of a dog. That wasn't necessarily the most well-adjusted and functioning first impression.

"It's nothing," the vet promised. She shot him a smile before crossing the room to go pat Sirius' head and run her hands up and down his neck. Sirius' tongue rolled right back out of his mouth—she had found his favourite spot ever.

"He's been my best patient today," she promised.

"He must like you a lot, he usually hates going to the vet," Remus said. "He's a real drama queen about it. Well, about most things really."

"He was very good today," she said. She turned back to Sirius. "Weren't you? You were a five star patient, really, you got all the treats for all the things…"

"We'll go handle the vet bills," Lily chimed up. "Since, you know… it was our fault."

"Yeah, we'll see you in the waiting room," James said. He wrapped an arm around Lily to guide her outside and winked at Remus before stepping out.

"Do you know how old he is?" the vet asked. "Your friends didn't, and I could add that to his file."

"I've got no idea," Remus said. "I know little to nothing about this dog. I was dragging myself home after a really unpleasant parent-teacher night and he started following me when I took a shortcut through an alley."

"That's funny," Tonks said.

"Yeah, I… I was going to call animal control, and really he made a mess of my flat the first night he stayed with me so I should have, but… I don't know. He grew on me. I've had him five years now."

"My dog's a rescue too," Tonks nodded. She nudged her head towards a wall where Remus saw her framed degrees and some pictures of a German shepherd whose fur swirled from a soft butterscotch to onyx black patches. "Funny how they just speak to you, sometimes—Kingsley was like that too. They've got quite similar temperaments, actually."

"Sirius loves other dogs," Remus said. "Maybe they could meet one day."

When he realized what he was saying, he wanted to melt through the floor and take it all back immediately. Tonks looked up and smiled.

"That might be good, actually," Tonks said. "Kingsley's a bit older, really only gets along with dogs that are also on the mature and gentle end."

"Oh," Remus said. "Well, Sirius isn't necessarily _mature, _you should know. Really, he's quite an idiot."

Tonks laughed and gave Sirius' ear one good last scratch before she turned away to grab a pen off her desk. She came back, took the brochure back from Remus, and scratched out the clinic's number from the back to scribble on a different one.

"Here," she said, handing it back to him when she was done. "That's my cell. Call if anything changes with Sirius or text if that dog park date really does sound good to you."

Remus blushed for real now, but he managed to produce something that sounded more like an "absolutely, yes."

Tonks smiled and gave Sirius one last rub between the ears.

"Alright, I've got to go deal with a far less pleasant constipated cat now," she said. She spoke to the dog sternly. "Be safe out there. Use your nose before eating random things that you find, yeah?"

Sirius barked and Tonks grinned before looking up at Remus.

"I'll see you," she said.

"Yes," Remus promised. She smiled.

He watched the vet leave before turning back to Sirius and shaking his head.

"Come on then, dumbass," he said. "Let's get you home."

With a grunt he managed to pick up Sirius from the table and put the big dog back on the ground. He held onto Sirius' leash loosely and they walked out of the exam room and to the waiting room where they found Lily and James.

"Hey," Lily said. "Since you cabbed here, we can give you a lift home."

"Order pizza for supper, since you missed the tail end of your conference…"

"Sure," Remus said. "And really, don't feel bad, guys."

"Oh, we don't," James said. "That vet was really cute, huh? Maybe Sirius is just trying to do you a favour."

"Now isn't the time, James," Lily muttered to her husband.

"But she was," James said. "Talked to Remus here for a long time, too…"

"Oh, shut up," Remus said, blushing again. But he couldn't bite back a smile as Lily fished the car keys out of her purse and they walked out of the clinic.

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Word count:** 1311

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **NA


	14. GhostAU: The Business of the Living

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #1, Careers Advice Task #4 Write a fic using one of the following themes: love, death, time, or curiosity.

**Warnings:** Canon character deaths

* * *

**This week's AU: **Ghost!AU

* * *

**The Business of the Living and the Business of the Dead **

_Oh hey, heaven is the place we know_

_Heaven is the arms that hold us_

_Long before we go_

_Oh if you're there_

_When the world comes to gather me in_

_Oh if you're there_

_I will be blessed_

-I Will Be Blessed, Ben Howard

When Remus woke up, he knew from how deep the ache ran that this transformation would leave him particularly sore for particularly long—and not only because the floor of the Shrieking Shack was made of unforgivingly hard wood. He was going to push himself off the dusty floor and try to grab the blanket hidden under the cupboard, since he'd torn the clothes he'd transformed in, but he found that he couldn't move. He panicked for a second and looked around him. The Shrieking Shack was familiar, nearly intimately so after years of transforming. He could breathe through his nose, in and out, alright. But he couldn't move.

He tried again but his body ignored him. No, ignoring implied an action, whereas his arms and legs were just completely unresponsive.

Remus tried not to panic. His friend Marlene sometimes had sleep paralysis; she would wake up and be unable to move or speak for a few minutes. Maybe, maybe he was just having trouble coming back to himself after the transformation. Madam Pomfrey always mentioned, every month without fail, how much of a shock to the body these transformations were. But oh God, if he wasn't fully himself yet, did that mean he was still dangerous? What if Madam Pomfrey or McGonagall came looking for him? What if…

He tried to calm down but was failing. His breathing was becoming erratic, which didn't help with the exhaustion and the faintness he always felt the morning after. He had been a werewolf for fourteen years now, and the full moon still managed to surprise him…

Then, someone knelt in front of him. Maybe he should have been more afraid—nobody was supposed to be with him during these transformations, that was the _point _of it all—but the curious little face that popped up in front of him seemed too soft and inquisitive to be frightening. It was a girl with a strong nose and high eyebrows, round cheeks and an easy smile. Her hair was chopped mid-neck and she was wearing an old-fashioned gown that seemed far too old for how young she was. She looked just about his age.

"Don't be afraid," she said. She lay down on the floor next to him and it was at this point that Remus realized that she moved too lightly, like an aria in a sea of percussion. And she was silver, like a… like a…

"You're okay," she said. "You're you, you're real, you're awake." Her curls had flopped onto the ground. Remus saw a grey ribbon in her hair that looked soft enough to be satin, though he knew that if he reached out, it wouldn't be soft. It wouldn't be anything, actually. You couldn't touch a ghost.

She kept talking to him, saying more or less the same thing over and over again on a loop. Eventually, Remus' breath calmed. His clenched jaw relaxed. But when his muscles finally reconnected with his mind and he could sit up, she vanished before he had fully risen.

He wrapped the blanket around himself and scrambled out of the Shrieking Shack, so that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have to come looking and see the mess he had made overnight. As he walked the tunnel back to the secret entrance under the willow, he nearly managed to convince himself that it had been an extension of a dream the same way the paralysis had been an extension of his sleep.

But then, when he changed into fresh pajamas he kept in the infirmary, he found a silver ribbon in his pocket.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey had so much on her hands at any given time that she didn't question Remus when he said that he was feeling angsty and wanted to go to the Shrieking Shack early that night. Really, he just wanted to spend a few extra minutes in there before the transformation took hold. Over the last month, he had tried to learn as much as he could about ghosts. This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was useless, but he had read that ghosts were attracted to candlelight so he had sneaked a candle with him tonight, tucking it in the waistband of is jeans. He lit it with the tip of his wand and sat down in the Shrieking Shack's parlour, waiting.

The girl he had seen last month peeked around one of the doors before stepping into the room. The candlelight danced against her silvery form, making some parts look nearly opaque albeit colourless.

"So you _are _real," Remus said.

"I gave you a ribbon so you would know," the girl said. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," Remus said. "I meant to bring it back but it disappeared."

"That's alright," she said. "I don't really need it. I kept my hair short around the time I died."

Remus didn't know what to answer to that.

"So you…"

"I'm a ghost," she nodded.

"Yes, I—well I had gathered so much," Remus said. "But…"

"I'm not an _important _ghost," she clarified. "You wouldn't know me, I think."

"Dumbledore—the Headmaster at Hogwarts—he told me that he was encouraging rumours that the Shrieking Shack was haunted so that the villagers wouldn't notice my commotion so much," Remus said. "I didn't know there were actual ghosts here."

"Not _ghosts_, just me," she clarified. "And, like I said, I'm not a very important ghost. Nobody knows I'm here, I think. Well, except for you, now."

"So you… you see me transform, then," Remus mumbled.

The girl cocked her head to the side as if she was wondering what answer he wanted to hear before she decided to be honest and nodded.

"I could go before the moon rises, if you want," she said.

"If you… if you don't mind, yes please," Remus said.

The girl nodded and disappeared, passing through the floor to a lower level of the house—possibly a cellar.

But when Remus woke up the next day, there was a blanket across his shoulders and she was sitting at his side, soothing him in a language he didn't understand.

"What's your name?" he asked. His voice was croaky.

"Nymphadora," she said.

"That's an old name," Remus said.

"I've been dead a long time," she said. "You can call me something more modern if you'd like."

"No, I wouldn't want to…" Remus stumbled over the words and blushed. She grinned at him, but it didn't feel mocking so much as… well, mischievous. "Can I call you Dora?"

"I like that," Dora said.

* * *

Remus smuggled candles into the Shrieking Shack from that point onwards. He lit them for the ghost and wondered why it was that she liked the light so much since she hadn't gone to it herself, when her time had come.

"My mother, she was from a very old pureblood family," Dora explained one day, when they were talking as the sun set. "She ran away and married a Muggleborn man and had me. They hid out in Hogsmeade for a long time, but one day an aunt of mine—an absolute madwoman—found us in our house, this house, and killed us all."

"I'm sorry," Remus said. "Are you… are your parents here too?"

"No," Dora said in a tone that indicated that she would say no more on the subject.

Remus showed her the pile of _Daily Prophets _he'd brought her, in case she wanted to read up on the modern wizarding world. It had been quite a trick to bring them with him, under Madam Pomfrey's nose, but he managed it. She asked if she could do the crosswords too and looked pleased when he said yes, dismissing his apologies over the fact that he didn't have any quills with him.

"I'll help you," Remus offered.

"You won't need to," Dora smiled. "I'm very good at puzzles. I'm quite brilliant, I'll have you know."

When he woke up the next morning, she had tucked the pile of newspapers under his arm.

The next week, when he borrowed a Muggle ballpoint pen from Lily and brought that too, the crosswords were filled and there were mustaches drawn on the pictures across the paper—which seemed quite cross about it, though Remus only laughed.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey took his temperature and seemed quite happy at the results.

"You seem much more well on the day after your transformations than you used to," she said. "Tired, of course, on account of being awake all night, but better."

"That's funny," Remus said. Luckily, his yawn changed the subject and Madam Pomfrey put him to bed before she could ask more questions he didn't want to explain.

* * *

She didn't come to him when he lit the candle and for a split second he worried that she was gone. He went looking for her in the house and he found her curled up on a bed frame with no mattress, hugging her legs to her chest.

"Hello," he said.

"I thought it might be you," Dora said. Her words seemed more hesitant and slow to come than they usually did. She sounded as she had when they'd first met.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked. "Are you alright? You look…"

"I… I forgot how long summer was," Dora said.

"Oh," Remus said. "Yes, well… it's a few months long. It's… been a while."

"A few months shouldn't matter," Dora said. "I've been dead a few decades. But it… well, going a few months without company was more difficult than spending a few decades without feeling a difference."

Remus nodded and crossed the room to go sit on the bed frame with her. He extended his hand to her, palm up, even if that was an empty gesture between a boy and a ghost.

"I was very alone," Dora said quietly. "I thought to myself, quite a lot actually, what the point of this was if I was going to be so alone. But the light didn't come for me, no door opened or anything like that. It keeps leaving me here so I kept waiting but I… I'd forgotten how lonely the waiting was, when you don't know what you're waiting for."

"I'm sorry," Remus said. This was the most he had ever heard her say of the reason why she had become a ghost. It had never occurred to Remus that you could die before fate was done with you, that the choice to stay behind was not always yours.

"Don't be sorry, I hope you had a good holiday," the ghost said.

"I did," Remus said. "But I missed you too."

She smiled shyly and extended her hand so that it floated above his.

* * *

"You've got more candlelight here than I would usually see in a year," the familiar voice said. Remus turned around, away from the kitchen he was filling with candles. Dora stood in the doorframe, lazily leaning against it without sinking through the wood. He couldn't quite understand her physics. There was a lot about Dora and about the afterlife and the business of ghosts that he didn't understand and tried not to think too hard about. Luckily, Dora didn't usually give him time to think.

"I…" Remus cleared his throat. "I wanted to make it special. Like I told you last month, I'm graduating soon and this is…"

"Shh," Dora said. She flew across the room to him, candlelight flickering as she whizzed by the ones he'd already lit. "Give me my newspaper, I'm dying for the answer to last week's riddle. Seriously, I might die again."

"Dora," Remus asked. "I'm… I'm serious. We should talk about this."

Dora seemed deflated at his seriousness. She slumped down at one of the kitchen chairs.

"You really won't be coming anymore?"

"I won't have access to the tunnel from the castle, and that's the only working entrance to the Shrieking Shack right now," Remus said.

Dora humphed, dissatisfied.

"So you're graduating and what now? They'll leave you to deal with your transformations all alone? Without this safe place, without… without me?"

Remus shrugged.

"It… it's like that, for people like me."

"It's rubbish," Dora said, her voice snippy.

"Dora?" Remus said shyly.

She stopped fuming for long enough to look up at him.

"You made it better," he promised.

Remus didn't know that ghosts could cry, but Dora smiled a wobbly smile and tears collected in the corners of her silver eyes.

"You made it better too," she said.

* * *

Remus couldn't help but go to Godric's Hollow, to the place where his friends had been murdered and their child orphaned. He had read in _The Prophet _and heard from other Order members how utterly destroyed the Potter's cottage had been, but a pang of hurt and longing still threatened to tear him to shreds when he saw it. There were piles of bricks where he and Lily had curled up to read by the fire, a broken beam snapped like a twig where Harry had taken his first step while playing on the floor with James, a mess of glass and debris in the kitchen where he'd cooked lazy weekend breakfasts for the lot of them so many times…

Remus chewed on his lip and looked around at the devastation. Part of him had wondered if Lily and James might… if they might… it had been silly, a desperate last hope. Dora hadn't known much more about the afterlife than he had; she hadn't gone into it, after all, she had been kept in this world, forever waiting for more. Remus couldn't help thinking that Lily and James had had so much more to look forward to, so much life left to live. Still, he couldn't picture them staying in these ruins when they had died only a few meters apart. It had been in James' wedding vows. _I'll go wherever you go, if we can go there hand-in-hand. _His friends were gone.

Remus turned away from the cottage, burying his face in his scarf against the November wind. On his way out of Godric's Hollow, he stopped at the post office where one could, if they asked the postmaster politely, acquire a copy of _The Daily Prophet _and have mail sent by owl. He had a few coins rattling around in his pocket so he sent a copy of today's paper to the Shrieking Shack.

* * *

He swore under his breath when he saw Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black's names collide on the map. He grabbed his wand, grabbed his cloak, and ran out of his office—neglecting even to lock it as he got out of the castle as quickly as he could, taking back routes so that he wouldn't run into students or colleagues who would want his attention.

He had spent years making sure nobody saw him enter the secret tunnel but today he cared so little that he entered as soon as he could get the willow to cooperate, with little regard for his surroundings. He raced down the tunnel into the Shrieking Shack and heard noise above—screaming, to be exact. He could make out both Harry and Sirius' voices quite clearly. Oh no.

He barreled up the staircase and only stopped when he nearly ran into—no, _through—_a familiar figure. A girl who looked older than when they'd first met, impossibly, though she'd aged more gracefully than he had. Her hair had gotten shorter, her figure was still lean, but her eyes…

"You've been teaching at the school for months," she said. Her voice was familiar, but it had lost that cool and joking quality that made it border on indifferent. She sounded disheartened and guilt curled in the pit of Remus' stomach.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "But I need to go up there."

"I know," she said. She lifted herself onto the banister of the staircase, leaving the path open for him. "The living always have a deadline on their business."

Remus wanted to stop and turn around and explain everything to her, but…

"You're right, I'm sorry, but we _will _talk," he said. He ran upstairs.

* * *

When Remus woke up, he was on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He hadn't woken up in this particular position in quite some time now.

There was a blanket over his shoulders.

Towering piles of all the copies of _The Daily Prophet _he'd sent over the years were surrounding him.

He sat up hastily, looking around him, wide-eyed and panicked. Dora was laying on the sofa across the room, parallel to him. Her eyes glinted with that mixture of excitement and boredom that meant she'd been waiting for him to wake up.

"The children," he gasped. "Sirius—Peter—Severus…"

"Are all in the castle," Dora said.

"They're…" Remus said. "But I—I never got my last dose of Wolfsbane Potion, I…"

"Did no harm to anyone," Dora said. "I brought you back to the house."

"You did… you did what?" Remus stutterd.

"I brought you back home," she said simply. "Werewolves are just as fantastic as ghosts, you know. It had been… it had been years, but you followed me in. It appears that you recognized me."

Remus' stomach sank. He sat up, blanket sliding off of his shoulder.

"I'm sure I did," Remus said softly.

"You'd been in the castle for months," she said. There was no accusation in her tone, even if she would have the right to. There was just hurt.

"I was," Remus said.

"You didn't want to see me again?" Dora asked.

"I did," Remus said. "I nearly… I nearly crossed the grounds and stopped the willow and walked the tunnels a hundred times."

"But you didn't," Dora said. "I'm the one bound to the place where I died. You're the one who didn't come."

"You're right," Remus said. "It just hurt so badly last time I left, I couldn't… I knew things at Hogwarts were too good to last. I was prepared for that to end, but I couldn't go through leaving you again."

Like he inevitably would after this disaster.

"You might not," Dora said softly. "Only people who knew you were a werewolf or who like you quite a lot saw you transform, before you came inside. Once Sirius saw you were safe, he went after the one who's a rat—Peter? I only caught bits and pieces of the fight you were all having upstairs so I'm still quite confused, but I do think that Sirius may be able to prove his innocence, which will be nice for James' boy."

Remus' stomach dropped.

"You… you really think so?" Remus asked quietly.

"I think…" Dora trailed off and froze. She looked towards the door. "I think your friends are looking for you."

"They can wait," Remus said.

"No, the living always have places to do and people to see," Dora said. She didn't take her eyes off the door. "I'm very good at waiting. Although I wouldn't go in there if I were you. I hear it isn't haunted."

Remus laughed.

There was a knock on the door. Dora disappeared and let him answer.

* * *

Remus did not know that this would be the last time he would wake up on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He was just confused about the fact that it wasn't even a full moon.

Then he was confused about the fact that Dora was laying on the floor next to him—though that wasn't the confusing part. Over the last four years, that was how he usually woke up; no, he was confused because she was holding his hand. She was actually touching him. She was touching him. Her fingers were curved to fit his hand and they were warm and soft and…

"Dora," he said quietly. His voice wasn't as groggy as it usually was when he first woke up.

"Remus," she said. He watched her smile crumple before she could smile it fully. She squeezed his hand and he was so shocked by the touch of her that he nearly missed what she told him. "Remus, I'm sorry, there was a battle at the castle… I could only see bits and pieces of it…"

"Harry," Remus said. "Is Harry okay?"

"I think… I saw blue sparks just after dawn," Dora reported. Remus' shoulders relaxed.

"Blue sparks and no… and no Dark Mark? No skull or snake in the sky?"

"No," Dora said. "Just blue sparks."

"Oh thank Merlin," Remus said, breathing out a sigh of relief. "That means we won. We won, Dora, we won…"

"Remus," Dora said. "Remus, yes, I think your Order won but I also think you… I also think you died."

Remus knew that was true because he didn't feel his body tense or his blood freeze or his jaw drop at her words. He had spent most of his life in and out of a body that was his and that he could control, which may explain how now… now he knew very keenly that he wasn't in a body before he even sat up and looked at the silvery grey hands that moved as if they were his own.

Dora sat up with him and kept a careful eye on him.

"You'll remember more about how you died as you settle into this life," Dora said gently. "Remus, I'm so sorry. You died a hero, but I'm so sorry you died, I can try to find out what happened if you want to know right away…"

"I don't think I do," Remus said, looking at the woman before him. "Somebody quite brilliant once told me that it was the business of the living that had deadlines."

Dora processed his words and smiled.

"Whose business are you now, then?" she asked.

"I'll be yours," Remus said. "Especially since I think I can kiss you now."

"I think you can too," Dora smiled.

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Word count:** 3602

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Spring Micro 1 (Creature AU)


	15. RoyaltyAU: Hurt Animals Always Hide

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #1, Zoology Task #3 Write a character performing one of the following actions. (Hiding in fear, Lashing out in anger, Seeking comfort with/in something or someone)

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Royalty!AU

* * *

**Hurt Animals Always Hide **

Remus barely made it out of the war room, down the hall, and onto the balcony before the gasp of pain burst out of his lips. He clutched his wrist, pushing up the sleeve of his embroidered shirt, and looked down at his hand, barely believing his eyes. But sure enough, his hand… well, the flesh was red and irritated and it looked raw. It might as well have been a second degree burn. But really, all that Remus had done was accept the silver seal that his father had handed him in the meeting.

Remus leaned against the porch railing, resting his head against the cool metal and keeping his arm extended, hoping that the cool night air may soothe his burned hand. This couldn't be happening. This hell he was in, it… this couldn't be happening to him. It couldn't.

He heard the patio doors behind him open and immediately straightened up. He had been off the battlefield and home for so little time that he immediately reached for the sword at his side too, sending a servant girl in an auburn robe stumbling back. She dropped the front of her apron as she tripped back, and bird seeds scattered on the ground.

"Oh, pardon me," Remus said. "I wasn't expecting… are you authorized to be on this floor of the castle when it's the hour the war council meets?"

"The queen allows me, sir," the girl said, keeping her head lowered. She had stumbled from her clumsy shock to a deep bow. "She likes for me to feed the birds here, that way she can see them from her tower."

"Right," Remus said. This sounded like his mother. "Right, then, as you were."

He slid his sword back into its scabbard, and while the servant girl looked up to meet his eyes, she didn't move. Her hair was tucked into the bonnet that most of the castle's servants wore but her eyes were absolutely electrifying. Remus couldn't quite tell what colour they were—blue, green, hazel, brown, possibly all of the above—but he felt like she was seeing right through him before she even opened her mouth again.

"Is your hand quite alright, Prince Remus?" she asked. He fumbled with his cloak so that it would fall over his hand, covering the injury.

"Quite alright," he said. "If… if you could go about your business and leave, I would be most grateful."

"As you wish," she said.

The corner of the servant girl's lips twitched upwards. She looked almost… amused.

"Please," Remus said again. He straightened up and his cloak fell too harshly against his injured hand. He winced. "Please, go."

"Yes, sir," she said. She extended her hand and swirled it above the ground, whispering a word that may as well have been gibberish. Then, just like that, the seeds scattered on the ground rose into the air and raced into her dress pockets. Remus drew his sword.

"Stay where you are," Remus spat, pointing the sword towards her and closing the gap between them in a few quick steps. A _magic user? _So close to the queen, this whole time_? _He shuddered to think of the damage she could have done to his poor mother…

"As you wish," she repeated.

Remus looked around, past the girl and through the glass doors into the hall. His father had grown paranoid after years of warfare; there were no guards and no palace staff allowed on this floor of the castle when the war council was in session. Even his mother had been dismissed in no uncertain words one day, before Greyback's Army had last attacked. His own men—James and Peter and Sirius—were always up for causing trouble around the palace, but even they knew better than to break this particular order of King Lyall's.

The girl smiled more, still amused which was nearly more infuriating.

"If you call the palace guards and report a witch, I do believe I too will have something interesting to report to them as well, my lord," the servant girl said.

Remus paled.

"What do you..?" he trailed off when he registered just how bright and quick the light in her eyes was. He settled on a different question. "How?"

"That burn on your hand looks incredibly painful," she said. "Only silver on a werewolf's skin would burn so."

"Hush," Remus hissed, shushing her. He looked around again but they were just alone as they had been before. Now, he lowered his sword.

"There have been whispers amongst the palace servants that you have returned from the last battle changed," the girl said. "And not in the way that war usually changes its survivors. You're quite liked by palace staff, you know. They worry about you and to us there's no real difference between gossipping and worrying."

"Yes, well… well you won't say a word to anyone and I won't say a word to anyone either," Remus told her.

"Of course," she said.

He didn't know if he believed her but he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Trying to bat away the fear in his chest, even if it had taken hold and stayed put ever since he'd returned from the front. He knew that different animals showed their pain in different ways. Lone animals like felines hid their fear to avoid showing weakness. Pack animals like dogs showed their fear so that other members of their pack would help them as they healed. Remus didn't know what to do with the bite where the werewolf had clamped down on his shoulder. He was surrounded by the same family and palace advisors and soldiers he had always known, yes, but he was so very alone. King Lyall Lupin had spent years at war with the Greyback Nation, so long in fact that Remus had been born a decade after the last peace had been known in the kingdom. What would he do with a son and an heir wrapped in the same curse that he had so long fought? There was no easy answer to this question and he couldn't help but notice that tonight the moon hung in the sky nearly full.

"I can heal your hand if you'd like," the witch offered.

Remus stumbled back.

"Magic is not permitted in the kingdom," he blabbered. "It was outlawed by Salman Lupin in 1754, and His Majesty King Lyall made it punishable by…"

"Punishable by nothing that a starving and suffering peasantry wouldn't risk its benefits for," the servant girl said, clucking her tongue. "You better have a rather good cover story for that burn and exactly where you got it and why it will take so long for it to heal, if you don't want my help."

Remus ran a quick calculation of the risks and benefits in his head. He, as a matter of fact, was a terrible liar—which was indeed making this whole situation that much more frightening.

"I want it," he said quietly, resigned. If he was to harbour a witch's secret in order to hide his own, then he may as well get all the benefits he could reap from their treacherous arrangement.

"Well, give me your hand, then," she said. She offered him his own expectantly. There was dirt under her nails and calluses on her fingers from hours of work.

Remus handed her his injured hand and winced, even if she was only touching the parts of it that weren't injured.

"You're in a bad state," she said sympathetically. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial whose cork lid she removed with her teeth. Dried herbs sprinkled out, falling across the wound and the skin surrounding it. She reached into her pocket again and, impossibly since she shouldn't have had that much room there, she produced a bandage that she wrapped his hand with as she whispered calm, soothing words that Remus didn't understand.

"Keep it bandaged for one night and one day," she said. "I'll change the dressing tomorrow, but I got to it fast enough. I wouldn't wager on this healing taking more than a week."

"Less than a week?" Remus asked, somewhat surprised. He imagined how much better his father's army would fare if their own doctors were such good healers. If they could nip infections before they spread, if they could use herbs from the land instead of expensive tinctures that were so harshly rationed, if they could tend to wounds before they worsened…

"You might call it magic," she said with a grin. Then her grin faded as she worked on tightening the bandage around his hand. "Although this is very basic, one of the first teachings I was given. If you like, I can teach you."

"Magic?" Remus scoffed. "Me? I'm not a witch."

"You'd be surprised how many people have magic inside them that they don't know about," she said. She tucked the end of the bandage into one of its many wraps, keeping it secure. "Besides, it might be useful for you to know how to tend to your own wounds. Not to mention that there's other magic out there—magic for hiding secrets…"

"I…" Remus stopped himself once he realized how foolish the words he was about to say sounded. _I do not want to lie. _Of course he did. He was a werewolf in a kingdom that hunted werewolves. Of course he did.

"Think about it," she said, gently running her fingertips across his palm before letting go of his hand.

Inside the palace, the door of the war room opened. The council had finished their meeting.

"You need to go before my father sees you," Remus said, spinning back towards the girl. She had vanished, and Remus didn't even know her name.

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Word count:** 3602

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Summer Medium 2 (Yelling/Shouting)


	16. PurebloodAU: Colours In the Rules

**Author's Note: **Context: this absolutely wild thing is happening in the Hogwarts writing forum called Auction, where the house teams bid on rando prompts. Ravenclaw got "Scenario: Narcissa was disowned instead of Andromeda," and… well, here I am, obviously making it about these two. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #2, DIY and Home Repair Task #1: Write about a connection or combination of something that makes things better. (Chose: Write about a connection that makes things better)

**Beta and cheerleader: **Aya Diefair

**Warnings:** Terminal illness; injuries; canon-compliant discrimination; arranged marriages; disownment

* * *

**This week's AU: **Pureblood!AU (inspired by the prompt "Scenario: Narcissa was disowned instead of Andromeda")

* * *

**Some Colours Are In The Rules**

Shacklebolt knocked on the door of the rundown cabin a second time. Nymphadora chewed on the inside of her cheek impatiently, doing her best to keep her impatience discreet. Out of all the tedious and mind-numbing work the Auror Office could assign, this was her least favourite errand to run, though she of course wouldn't dare to show any sign of it.

The cottage's owner opened the door soon after. He was older than she was, yes, but she was sure that he was younger than he looked. His aging looked premature, and it definitely was not helped by the black and blue bruises on the side of his face. He was using a pair of crutches to get around too, and Nymphadora noticed a thick bandage wrapped around his right leg.

"Remus John Lupin?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked.

"Yes," he said.

Kingsley raised the Auror badge that was hanging around his neck.

"We're just here doing a routine post-Full Moon check," Kingsley said. It was part of the new werewolf registry bill; Aurors were to ensure that lycanthropes were at their registered addresses the day after the full moon, that way they could better track their activities and ensure compliance with Dolores Umbridge's bill.

"Yes, I'm here," Remus said simply. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Aurors?"

"That is all, Mr Lupin," Nymphadora said. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

* * *

"I'm home," Nymphadora called into the house when she closed the front door behind her. Dobby the house elf appeared soon after and bowed deeply.

"Welcome home, Mistress Malfoy," Dobby said. "May I take your cloak."

"Thank you," Nymphadora said, shrugging the garment off. She wanted to peel out of her work clothes; the wool skirt was hot and her blouse felt restrictive. But first, she had to find her mother.

"Yes Mistress," Dobby said. "The other Mistress Malfoy is in her study."

"Thank you Dobby," Nymphadora said. "Will you bring us tea?"

"Yes Mistress," Dobby said, bowing again. Nymphadora walked past him and climbed the steps to Malfoy Manor, hiking up her skirt.

She peered into the study, where her mother was curled up in an armchair by the window with a thick book. Nymphadora knocked on the door and her mother looked up, a beautiful smile on her face.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," her mother said, putting down the book. Her brown hair was tied back in a loose chignon which cleared her face, pale and tired as it had been for the last few weeks.

Nymphadora crossed the room, the heels on her boots clicking against the ground. She leaned down and kissed her mother's cheek.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"I am feeling wonderful," her mother said. "How was work?"

"Work was fine," Nymphadora said. "Boring. Are you sure you're feeling alright? You look pale."

"I am feeling nostalgic, if anything," her mother said with a smile. "Would you do me a favour and fetch a box in the attic for me? I'm looking for an old photo album and can't seem to find it here."

"Of course," Nymphadora said. She made a mental note of her mother's description of the box and kissed the top of her head again before going. "I had Dobby bring up some tea, by the way. Please drink it, the Healers say that the blackberry leaf will do you well."

"Very well," her mother said.

The evening was uneventful; she fetched her mother's box, washed up before dinner, indulged in one of Dobby's delicious roasts, and then played half a game of chess with her mother before she became too tired and needed to be walked back to bed.

"You're too good to me," her mother said with a smile.

"Call me if you need anything else," Dora said. She had lost her father to Dragon Pox years ago; she was not going to lose her mother to whatever this strange ailment was now.

"Thank you, sweetheart," her mother said.

Then, Nymphadora was alone in the house. Alone and bored. There was a letter from Auntie Bella and Uncle Rodolphus to open, but letter-writing was about as boring as being alone anyways, so Nymphadora didn't mind it. Besides, if Auntie Bella was writing to tell her the news about the Lestrange cousins, Nymphadora already knew. The grapevine and the rumour mill were unforgiving and swift.

She walked back to her room; if she went to bed early, she could get up early and squeeze in some time at the Auror Office's dueling range before work. That would be something, at least. She and Kingsley had managed to track down most of the werewolves on their list and the others they had signaled to the Department for the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures, but there had been no surprise. It had been the usual suspects, Fenrir Greyback and his pack. They had been missing last month and they would be missing next month too, there would be no surprise there. As she thought back to last month's checks, actually, she did seem to remember Remus Lupin. He had looked unwell then too—his leg hadn't been bandaged, but he had had an arm in a sling. That was curious.

Nymphadora chewed her lip as she thought about it, wondering how an apex predator such as a werewolf managed to get hurt. Lost in her thought, she didn't notice the little brown book on the floor. Clumsy as ever, she tripped on it. She cursed under her breath, a very unladylike slip she was thankful her mother hadn't heard, and reached out to pick up the book that had flown across the hall and landed broken-spined, wide open against the floor. Nymphadora breathed a sigh of relief when a quick check confirmed that no pages had been bent.

That cursory check allowed her to see a glimpse of what it was—an old journal. She recognized her mother's careful and perfectly formed penmanship across the pages, and the dates placed the entries during her mother's seventh year.

Nymphadora didn't mean to read, but she did.

* * *

It took a few knocks before the cottage door was opened, most likely because Remus John Lupin had needed to limp across the room to reach the door. He paled a bit when he saw her.

"Hello, Madam Auror," he said with a voice that was cool and steady nonetheless. "Is there an issue?"

"I was conducting a wellness check," she said. "You looked unwell yesterday."

The werewolf relaxed but still seemed at a loss.

"I… well, thank you," he sputtered. "I, ah…"

"Do you need anything?" Nymphadora asked again.

Remus looked away sheepishly and looked behind him, scanning the contents of the cottage which seemed sparse but cozy enough.

"I wasn't able to chop more firewood yesterday," he finally said. "I always make sure I have what I need from the village before a full moon, but firewood I… I can usually manage."

"I'll see to it," Nymphadora said.

And she did. It would have been easy enough to do by magic, but Nymphadora found an axe where Remus stored his wood—in a small shelter covered by a tarp to keep it dry, so she split the wood herself. It was good, hard work that cleared her mind and made her muscles hum. A good distraction from the fall Mum had taken that morning.

She brought the wood back inside and Remus tripped over his own thanks.

"I… I don't have anything to repay you with," he said.

"You don't need to repay me," Nymphadora said. "I became an Auror to help people."

Remus didn't respond to that, just bit his lip. Then he frowned.

"Your eyes, I…"

"What about them?" Nymphadora asked, possibly more defensively than she needed to. Remus blushed.

"Nothing, I simply… I could have sworn that they were green yesterday," he said.

Nymphadora sighed and closed her eyes for a second, gently willing them to shift back to their natural shade. Sometimes, when she worried about someone, her abilities got the best of her and she took on some of their features. In this case, most likely her mother's chocolatey brown eyes. It wasn't too devastating of a slip, but Nymphadora liked being consistent. Her father had told her to pick a face and stick to it when she'd been small.

"You must be a Metamorphmagus," Remus said.

"I am," Nymphadora admitted.

"Fascinating," Remus asked. "I—I've never met someone with your gift."

"It comes in handy during undercover work," Nymphadora said simply.

"I can only imagine," he said. "May I ask you a question, if you don't mind? I always wondered where the limits of a Metamorphmagus' transformations lied. I know where mine are, but yours include so much choice… are you able to access colours and features different from typical human pigmentation? What colours can you actually call forth?"

"I'm not sure," Nymphadora said. She had never tried. "Will this be enough firewood to last you for today?"

Remus nodded.

"Yes, and for tomorrow morning, most likely," Remus said. "By then, the healing spells should have restored my leg."

"You must know a lot of healing magic, then," Nymphadora said.

"Some," Remus said.

"Full moon injuries must be quite common," she said.

"Not particularly, other than the occasional scratch or blistered foot," Remus said. "I'm somewhat atypical. I contain myself during transformations."

"You do?" Nymphadora asked. She frowned. "How?"

"With great difficulty and a _very _good knowledge of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Remus said. "Being alone and in a contained space increases the risk that I end up hurting myself."

"Oh," Nymphadora said. "Oh, I… I see."

She looked at the pile of firewood that she had left by the fireplace.

"I will come back tomorrow morning," she said. "Just in case."

* * *

_Journal, _

_The Room of Requirement was good to us again last night. Ted had brought butterbeer and biscuits, since his common room is so close to the kitchens, and the room provided is with the comfiest chair I have ever sat on as if it knew we would be reading more poetry. To be fair, the chair was quite narrow but I didn't mind. Ted is one of those people I can never get close enough to. _

_I tried speaking to Narcissa again, before I left the Common Room for the evening. Bella asked me to. Apparently Cissa isn't writing to her or back home anymore. She was evasive and quiet with me too, which is so unlike her. I'll try talking to her again tomorrow before writing back to Bella, maybe it was just a bad time. I do hope she is alright._

_Other than that, there's a kind of madness passing through the entire seventh year cohort that's made it impossible to have a normal conversation. Everybody is scrambling to think about what they'll do next year and where they'll go after school. Ted and I have both finished our applications for healer training; ideally we'll get in at St. Mungo's, but I think my parents would allow me to go train elsewhere as long as I'm not too far from London. I'm excited for the chance to go, even if I'm just as nervous as everybody else, but I'm happy that the application is sent and done now. It's left us with more time for poetry. _

_Andromeda_

* * *

"Nymphadora," a weak voice croaked.

She woke up all at once, as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head, jolting awake in the armchair at her mother's bedside.

"Yes, Mother?" she asked.

"Go to bed," her mother said simply. Her voice and breath was still wheezing and croaking and weak.

"I'm perfectly alright here," her mother promised. "I'll sleep better if I know you're in your own bed."

"And I won't sleep at all if I'm not here for you," she replied.

"You're so very stubborn," her mother said, though she said it lovingly.

"Yes, mother," Nymphadora said. "Goodnight."

* * *

"You don't have to keep doing this," Remus said. He was sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him while Nymphadora removed a meat pie from his oven.

"I know," Nymphadora said. She settled the pie on the counter and fanned it with a dish towel. "It just doesn't seem right to leave you alone when you're not well."

"I'm not well every month," Remus said. This month in particular, he had woken up with a gash in his arm, a headache, blurred vision, and an intense dizziness. Years ago, Nymphadora had gotten concussed during a sting operation and she suspected that Remus had somehow concussed himself overnight, but he was refusing to go to St. Mungo's. She had taken over his attempt at cooking since.

"That doesn't mean you deserve less help," Nymphadora said.

* * *

_Journal, _

_We were bold today, bolder than usual. We snuck out of the castle after curfew and lay in the poppy fields that Professor Jardinière is growing by the greenhouses. We had an incredible view of the stars and he pointed out the constellation 'Andromeda,' the one that my name must come from. We got to breathe fresh air and laugh out loud together. It was incredible. I can't believe that it was the first time that we got to do that together, but we've got to hide so often. I can't believe that it was the first time I was outside holding hands with this boy and I told him that I loved him and he said I loved him too. I can't believe I'm still smiling about it. _

_Andromeda_

* * *

"Before you go—there's something by the door for you," Remus called. He was sitting by the warmth of the fireplace, a blanket across his lap and a cool compress against his injured eye.

Nymphadora froze as she walked and looked. There was a loaf of bread wrapped in a tea towel and a jar of blackberry jam.

"What's this?" she asked.

"A thank you gift," Remus said.

"You don't have to thank me," Nymphadora said automatically.

"Please, Madam Auror," Remus said. "It seems quite evident to me that you have gone above and beyond the call of duty, insofar as I'm concerned."

Nymphadora hesitated, but her grandmother's voice in her head reminded her of whatever etiquette lesson she had been at when she'd been told never to decline a gift lest she insult the giver.

"Thank you," she said politely. "This is very kind."

Still, she didn't know how to explain the appearance of fresh bread and jam to her mother, so she passed the gifts on to Dobby. It made him happy enough.

She realized later that the thought was so sweet, it made her happy too.

* * *

_Journal, _

_Ted showed me a picture of his family today, so it was a little bit as if I got to meet them. His little brother and all four of his sisters were in the frame, as were his parents. I wish I had been able to see them move—how they wink, how they smile, all the little things like that, but it was a Muggle photograph, of course…_

Dora looked up from the journal one moment. A Muggle…

She chewed on her lip and then flipped through the pages of the journal, trying to connect the dots in her head. She supposed that her mother had never written down this Ted's last name or his house or anything at all, which meant that maybe…

Still, her mother? Sneaking about the castle and falling in love with a Muggleborn boy?

It didn't feel real to her. It felt like it couldn't be real. Her mother was as even, regular, and perfect as clockwork. She beat as she should, when she should, how she should. She had shown Nymphadora a world of etiquette and behaviour and propriety. There was a reason Nymphadora was such a good Auror—she was good at understanding systems, at seeing how they worked from within and from afar, at finding patterns, of knowing what people expected of her or the world and of using it to her advantage. Really, it was just another facet of being a good pureblood girl.

This version of her mother did not fit in her world.

* * *

"I can't believe you volunteered for this shit," Dedalus Diggle said as they walked away from the run-down apartment building where they'd gone to find Fiona Hawkins, 32 years old, werewolf since 1986.

"I don't mind it," Nymphadora said. They ducked into an alley so that they wouldn't be seen by Muggles and apparated to their next destination.

Nymphadora actually smiled when she saw the little run-down cottage.

* * *

_I barely had time to pinch my journal from under my mattress; that's how quickly I had to pack. One moment I was in potions and the next my parents were pulling me out of school. _

_It was worse than Bella and I thought, with Narcissa. She wasn't worried about whether or not McGonagall would let her stay in her NEWT-level class or sad about her owl getting sick or anything we might have imagined. No, she was pregnant! Well, she _is _pregnant. I could hardly believe it. Apparently Madam Pomfrey has known for ages and has been helping her along. Diana Mulciber overheard something at the infirmary a few days ago, and news travels so fast amongst the Sacred Twenty-Eight that the news got back to our parents._

_I don't know why they pulled me out of school along with her. Since we've been home, I've been under strict instructions to stay in my room. I haven't so much as _spoken _to Narcissa since I found out. I've heard the yelling and the shouting and the crying, but it's gone quiet now. I wonder where she is. I wonder if they've stopped yelling because they're past the anger and because they're helping her, now. _

_I can't believe my little sister's life changed so entirely and I didn't even see it. _

* * *

"You didn't have to personally escort me," Nymphadora told Alastor Moody.

The old Auror made a grumpy noise.

"You're young," he said. "Still got something to prove. I'm old and stuffy, and I'll make sure you get to a proper Healer."

Nymphadora would have rolled her eyes if she was the kind of girl who rolled her eyes. She had simply fallen the wrong way while she and Kingsley were going through a routine dueling drill. Her ankle was twisted, and it was Auror Office regulation that a healer from St. Mungo's be the one to fix it. Really, Nymphadora thought that she may even be able to fix it herself. Remus had shown her some of the spells he knew. Still, regulation was regulation.

True to Moody's word and the fuss he'd kicked up, it wasn't long until a Healer in lime green robes entered the examination room with her file under his arm. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair that was still brown in places, with soft brown eyes and a kind, open face. He stopped whistling as he swung into her room and offered them a smile.

"Nymphadora, yes?" he asked. "Hello, I'm Healer Tonks—you can call me Ted."

Nymphadora's blood froze. She remembered the words she'd read from her mother's diary, weeks ago now. She tried not to read too much of the journal, she knew it was wrong, but she snatched snippets of it from time to time when she couldn't resist conjuring a young, healthy, and happy version of her mother. The words came back to her; _Ted and I have both finished our applications for healer training; ideally we'll get in at St. Mungo's… _

"Malfoy," Moody barked. "You weren't hit in the head, were you? The healer's talking to you."

Nymphadora snapped out of her stupor.

"Pardon me," she said.

"That's alright," the healer said kindly. He peeked at her file again. "It says here that you had a training accident, down at the Ministry?"

"Yes, that's right," Nymphadora said. "I can… I can be quite clumsy."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault," Ted Tonks said sympathetically. "Accidents happen. Now let's have a look at that ankle to see how swiftly we can get you home, Madam Auror."

* * *

_Journal, _

_Mother and Father came to see me today, somber and with Bella in tow. I sat up in bed and closed my book and they said that they had found a way to lessen the humiliation of Narcissa's situation, to fill the gap where she had once been. They said I could lessen it, if I took her place to save the engagement with the Malfoy family. Of course, he was a year younger than I was and so Narcissa had been the preferred match, but a year apart between a couple was nothing to bat an eye about. Nobody would bat an eye at my husband and I. Mother was crying when she took me in her arms, saying how blessed she had been to have a daughter like me, at least. That was when I realized that they had come to ask, but there wasn't really any asking to be done. _

_When Jedediah Nott was sent to Azkaban and our engagement was terminated, I knew there was an empty place on the family tree where he had been meant to be. I was foolish to think that I would be the one to choose to fill it. I was foolish to even entertain this thing with Ted, which I can only call a 'thing' because what was it, really, other than desperate and foolish? Beautiful. It was beautiful. _

_I'm too heartbroken to say more. _

* * *

"I wasn't expecting you," Remus said when he opened the door. His arm was in a sling. It seemed that his right shoulder kept getting dislocated, again and again and again, and never had time to properly heal over the lunar cycle.

"I'm sorry," Nymphadora said. "I… I was expecting to come, I wanted to come, but my mother, she… she's in hospital."

Yesterday. Yesterday, Nymphadora had slept by her mother's side as she always did and her breathing had gotten particularly shallow and worrying. The next day she hadn't been able to drink so much as a sip of water and so Nymphadora had called healers in against her will.

"I'm so sorry," Remus said, brown eyes widening. "Is she..?"

"I don't know," Nymphadora said. "I don't… do you have everything that you need? Are you alright?"

"Yes," Remus said. He blinked. "Yes, I'm quite alright, are you..?"

"That's good," Nymphadora said. They were quiet for a moment. Their script had run out but neither of them were exiting the stage.

"Did you want to come in just for a cup of tea?" Remus offered kindly.

That jolted Nymphadora back to reality. This reality; the one with systems and rules in place.

"No, thank you," she said even if she would happily give an arm for a good cup of tea at this time. "No, I…. I should go."

And so she did, apparating away before Remus had even shut the door.

* * *

When she sat at her mother's bedside that day, she brought the brown journal she'd been holding onto for so long.

Andromeda smiled when she saw it.

"I recognize that," she said fondly.

"I read it," Nymphadora said.

Andromeda's eyes widened.

"Don't," Nymphadora said, shaking her head. "I know, I shouldn't have. But I did and there's no taking that back."

Her mother's eyes closed and she took as deep of a breath as she could. It wasn't much. The healers kept saying it wasn't much. They were preparing Nymphadora for the worst, the same way they had done when her father had passed away. She even recognized some of their language and demeanor from her own training on how to break bad news, impossible news, to people.

"I didn't know… everything," Nymphadora said.

"That is the key to a good pureblood family," her mother said, eyes still closed. She looked in pain. "Well-kept secrets."

Nymphadora twisted her hands together.

"Is there anything else I should know?" she finally asked.

Her mother reached out and took her hand.

"I've raised you in the only life I knew," she said. "Not in the… not in the possibilities I could once see between the rules I was given. They would have ruined my life, had I not had you."

Nymphadora swallowed hard. She brought her mother's hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles.

Her mother's exhausted eyes fluttered shut once more.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," Nymphadora said. Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, struggling to regain her composure. "Would you… Mum, would you go back and do it differently?"

"No," her mother said. "I wouldn't change anything that brought you to me. But once you were mine, I… I should have freed you from the boxes I knew. I should have raised you not to mind them, Nymphadora."

* * *

"Mum?" Nymphadora asked. Her mother turned her head towards the door, following the sound of Nymphadora's voice.

"Ny…" her mother ran out of breath as she tried to say her name. She simply said, "Dora?"

"Mum, are you up for a visitor right now?"

"Always, sweetheart," she said, forcing a smile onto her exhausted face.

"Not me," Dora said. She looked over her shoulder and motioned for Healer Tonks to join her in the doorframe.

"Andromeda," he said. There was a breathlessness to his voice when he said her name, when he saw her. His face was pale and long and full of worry.

"Ted," she said. "Ted, you…"

"I work here," he said. "Your daughter, she… she found me. She thought you might…"

"Want company," Nymphadora said, to fill in the gaps.

"Y—yes," she said, voice croaking. "Come in."

Ted gave Nymphadora a look and she nodded, so he slipped into the room. He sat at the chair by the bedside that Nymphadora had so often occupied and took her hand.

Nymphadora hovered in the doorway, giving them space. She stepped aside and lurked outside a room, eyes closed and head leaned back against the pale hospital wall.

"You haven't forgotten me," she overheard her mother saying.

"I try... all the time," Ted Tonks replied. "And no, I haven't. I can't."

Nymphadora walked away to give them space. She walked down the hall of St. Mungo's palliative care wing, and found herself alone in the elevator. She apparated from there to the cottage in Yorkshire. She hiked up her skirt and hurried to the door, knocking with more force than was strictly polite.

Remus opened, looking confused as to who was knocking on his door, and then he looked surprised when he saw her. She looked at him for a second before willing her hair the most absolutely ridiculous colour she could think of: hot pink. She wasn't sure if the change had worked, but she pulled the pin from her hair and shook the strands loose. She ran her fingers through her hair like a comb and tugged them over her shoulder, looking down to see if the change had worked.

It had. Her hair was bright pink.

She looked up at Remus and took a deep breath.

"There's your answer," she said. "I… I can do colours that aren't strictly, well, in the rules. Now you know. Well, we both know. Can I come in for tea?"

Remus looked shocked.

"That's not in the rules either, is it?" he asked.

"No," she said. "No, it's not."

Remus nodded and stepped aside.

"I'll put the kettle on," he said.

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Word count:** 4614

**Ship (Team): **Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Summer Medium 1 (Love Letters)


	17. Roaring20s: Speakeasy & Hold Your Tongue

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I am not she because #transrights

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Roaring Twenties!AU

* * *

**Speakeasy and Hold Your Tongue**

Remus saw her crossing the dance floor through all the smoke and the shimmying, dancing crowd. It wasn't just that she was the most beautiful girl in the speakeasy, tucked away in the basement of the old family home Sirius had put up as their cover. Well, yes, she was beautiful. But more importantly, she was most definitely a cop. And they couldn't have cops around here.

Remus was suspicious as soon as he saw her. The speakeasy was, in every way that mattered aside from its dull and boring lighting, loud. There were bright colours, there was loud jazz music, the smell of bad bathtub gin and moonshine was obnoxiously powerful too—but nobody in the space actually seemed to notice it, aside from Remus. Everybody else was lost in some song or in someone's arms or in their own drink. Nobody came to The Marauder's with that much clarity and focus, and if they did they were trying to peel it all away as quickly as possible. They didn't run a clean establishment, of course, but they ran a very efficient one. It was part of why he and the boys were on such a lax leesh from the boss and tucking away such a nice cut of The Marauder's profits.

He could have sounded the alarm right away. He, James, Sirius and Peter had a system in place for occasions just like this, and it was one of the reasons that they always made sure that one of them was behind the bar to keep an eye on the place.

But it wasn't every day that the cops sent in an undercover agent, especially one who was a woman and whose disguise was as good and daring as hers was. So Remus decided to investigate, and simply smile at her as she took a seat at the bar. Her headband had beautiful crystal flowers interrupting the black band and it held her short, honeyed curls away from her face. Black gloves covered her arms from fingertips to elbows, but otherwise her arms were bare and her dress was short enough to be as bold as the rest of the dancers and drinkers they were playing host to tonight. Remus blushed a little at the thought, but there was nowhere on her where she could hide a gun—that was for sure.

"What can I get for you?" Remus asked.

"The night's special," she said. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Of course," Remus said as he went about making her drink.

Strike two. Nobody who actually spent this much time in the undergrounds _asked _to smoke anywhere—not now, not before prohibition had really started, not ever. Remus had never been the most adventurous of their little gang and he had never been the boldest, but even he knew that.

He slid her drink across the counter to her and she just managed to catch it instead of crashing to the floor.

Remus grinned.

"I'm such a clutz," she said, clicking her tongue and batting a hand towards Remus. And her eyes. There was no denying that those blue eyes were on the electric side of things.

"Don't worry," Remus told her. "Practise makes perfect, you'll see."

"I'll see?" she smiled, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a careful sip. "Got a lot of regulars, here?"

"That's the question everybody asks," Remus said. Actually, nobody was asking that question and nobody needed to ask that question unless they were a cop.

Strike three.

He knew exactly how many bullets he had in the gun at his hip, and today's safeword was on the tip of his tongue. Remus only had to ask one of the other bartenders to go grab extra ice in the back for him to go alert the other boys. If he wanted to save himself the trouble, he could even add _extra ice _to the daily specials' menu for the others to see and immediately lock the place down. They had rarely had to do it, since old family money from James could usually buy a petty cop's silence and since they largely stayed out of trouble by doing their own rum-running. But Remus knew they could.

"And what's the answer?" she asked with a mischievous half-smile.

"You'll have to become one to see," Remus said.

She laughed into her glass—a big, genuine laughter that obviously came from deep within her belly.

"Unfortunately, I don't look nearly as good in the other four dresses I'd have to wear to make coming here my full-time job," she said.

"Do you mean to tell me that there's a dress in this world you don't look wonderful in?" Remus asked again, leaning on the counter.

"Keep talking like that and I'm sure I can be tempted to let you find out," she said. She winked at Remus as she put her glass back on the table, empty. He nearly believed her, as he got busy making her another drink, despite his best instincts and all the years of experience he had that should make him better than this.

She was definitely with the police. But…

Well, she was pretty and she was light and she was witty. Maybe Remus could keep investigating some more…

* * *

**WC: **875


	18. DarkAU: What The Pack Hides

**Author's Note: **So one of our prompts was "write about x character realistically fighting on the other side of the war," and our character was Remus. So you _know _I was all over this, even before I realized I got to write Auror Tonks in her element to go with. I'm quite happy with how it came out. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I am not she because #transrights

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #3, Calligraphy **Task #1 - The Dark Lady:** Write about a woman in a position of power.

**Warnings:** Canon-compliant discrimination and abuses of power; violence; imprisonment

* * *

**This week's AU: **Dark!AU

* * *

**What's Hidden In The Pack**

"Seperate them," Scrimgeour said as soon as he closed the door of his office behind himself. He looked at the group of Aurors gathered before him one by one, his grey eyes hard and his instructions firm. "They're a pack. They're used to working as a pack and I want to see what weaknesses we can find when we force them to work as individuals."

"Okay, so we'll split them. Who did you want taking point on the interrogations?" Dawlish asked.

"Tonks," Scirmgeour said.

Her eyes widened some as he said it.

"Me?" she asked.

"Yes, you," Scrimgeour said, turning back to her. "You're the one who located their campsite and blew their cover wide open after three months of investigation, Tonks. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, sir," Tonks said. She pushed a piece of her hair back—it was teal, today, and her eyes were wider than usual and emerald green. Her lips were fuller and the set of her jaw was more natural than the face she had worn while undercover. The werewolves in custody wouldn't recognize her, she was sure of it.

"Alright," Dawlish asked, turning back to face Tonks. "Who do you want to start with? Greyback?"

"No, not Greyback," Tonks said. "He'll be harder to crack than the rest and he's still fucking furious that he's been caught. I want to start smaller, but not… not too small."

Scrimgeour nodded in approval. She saw him from the corner of her eyes and it immediately made her feel better.

"You've got four werewolves in custody," Scrimgeour said. "Where do you want to start?"

Tonks considered her options.

"Bring in Greyback's right hand man," Tonks said. She took the appropriate folder from Scrimgeour's desk so that she could review the file before going in. "Someone go get Remus Lupin."

* * *

He was sitting in the interrogation room, handcuffed with the manacles tied down to the table.

"You'll be alright on your own?" Dawlish asked.

"Yes," Tonks said, holding the file and a spare length of parchment for note-taking to her chest.

Dawlish nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Remember; you can smash the bottle of sleeping drought if he gets violent and you need to defuse."

He swung the door open and Tonks walked into the room. He looked up when he saw her but he didn't sit up. Still, she knew that his chocolate brown eyes were analyzing her, picking her apart.

"Good afternoon," she said, taking her time to draw her chair and pour them two glasses of water from the pitcher. "I'm Auror Tonks."

"You know my name," he said simply. She pushed the glass of water towards him.

"I do," she said. "Remus John Lupin. Your parents were Hope and Lyall."

"They're both dead," he said. "We don't need to talk about them if you'd like to save time."

"We won't," Tonks promised. She looked up from the file and saw Lupin shift uncomfortably, moving his arms gingerly. That was when she saw the burn marks around his wrist, looking pink and fresh and painful.

"What's going on there?" she asked, looking at his wrists. "Are those silver mannacles?"

"As per Auror Department procedure, yes," Lupin said, shifting again. He winced as the silver touched and seared new skin. Part of her was impressed at him, for knowing the rules and protocols so well.

"I don't think we need those," Tonks said, looking up. "You'll behave if I untie you?"

"I'm not sure what you'd expect an unarmed man to accomplish against an armed Auror, but I won't try to get creative," Lupin said.

Tonks waved her wand and the silver mannacles clattered onto the table. Lupin immediately drew his hands back, cradling his burnt wrists against his chest.

"You say that, but you're a wizard yourself," Tonks said.

"I was never taught magic," Lupin said. "There's no room at Hogwarts for my kind and my father didn't believe in making an apex predator more powerful than strictly necessary."

"You were bitten young," Tonks said.

"I was already aware that you had read my file, Madam Auror," Lupin said. "I also know why you're here and you won't soften your cause by unshackling me."

"Nor was I hoping to," Tonks said, leaning back in her chair. It was the week of the full moon; they were all distinctly aware of it. Kingsley was already working out how they'd safely contain the arrested werewolves days from now, when the full moon rose. Why had nobody thought not to let silver touch the werewolves' skins so close to the full moon?

Lupin leaned back in his seat, seemingly measuring her up for size.

"I'm not uncomfortable with silence, Madam Auror," he said. "Let me save you a fair bit of time by telling you that you'd be better off asking questions directly than trying to bore me into speaking."

"Alright," Tonks said. "You're Fenrir Greyback's right-hand man. Tell me how that happened."

Lupin didn't answer.

"Of course, you won't be doing much of anything while you're locked up," Tonks pointed out. "Inconvenient, that is. It must be maddening if you're usually doing so much work for the good of the pack."

"Maddening is a strong word," Lupin said.

"I can tell you how your packmates are doing if you can tell me a few things in return," Tonks offered casually. She looked up. "I used the word 'maddening,' but really I bet you must be worried."

Lupin hesitated for a moment.

"I can start by telling you who is in custody, other than yourself," Tonks said. "There's Greyback himself, of course. Vega Miranda was brought in as well, and Odin Oberon."

Lupin's attention perked up.

"Vega is here?" he asked.

Tonks nodded; it was important that he see that she could cooperate so that he felt safe to cooperate in turn.

"My turn," Tonks said. She leaned back in her seat. "You were bit when you were little. Why does the Auror Department's intelligence only place you in Greyback's pack as of the last ten years?"

"Greyback bit me when I was four," Lupin said. "I was a child. I didn't make my own decisions about where I went and what I did with who."

"Greyback himself bit you?" Tonks asked. "And you turned to him?"

"Greyback may have bit me, but he stood by me," Lupin said.

"And others didn't?" Tonks asked.

"I'd tell you to look around the Wizarding world and the things that are said about us, but I've already answered a question and it's your turn now," Remus said.

"Fair enough," Tonks said. Mad-Eye had taught her himself that good information was worth a fair price, and Tonks knew very well that bartering information that the press would soon have with Lupin was worth the trouble she would save, trying to sit down and talk with the others.

Fenrir Greyback was still hissing and snarling and kicking from his chains, swearing up and down that he'd have the throat of any Auror who tried to talk to him. Vega Miranda hadn't said a single word since she'd been arrested. Odin Overon, meanwhile, had little to say and was mostly drifting in and out of consciousness—someone from the Department for the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures had come by and concluded that he was still reeling from the silver bullet an agent in the field had sunken in his thigh, not that he was allowing anybody to touch him. Not only was Lupin upright and lucid, but he seemed reasonable and informed. Perhaps, Tonks would hazard to say, even better than Greyback himself did.

"Was Vega alone when you arrested her?" Lupin asked.

It wasn't the question Tonks had expected.

"You were all arrested together, when the Aurors stormed the encampment in the Forest of Dean," Tonks said. "Who would she have been with?"

"Is that really what you want to spend your next question on, Auror Tonks?" he asked.

She pondered.

"How did the pack make the decision to ally itself with the Death Eaters?" Tonks asked.

"Answering that question would presume that the pack had allied itself with the Death Eaters and that wasn't the question I was asked to answer," Remus said.

Tonks leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

"Fair enough. Your turn again, then," she said.

"Where are those in the pack that you didn't arrest?" Remus asked. "What was the limit of the Auror Department's warrant?"

Tonks stirred in her seat.

"That's two questions," she pointed out. He stirred in his seat and for the first time she saw him grow nervous or impatient. She realized that she had hit a sensitive nerve because he was _looking _for someone. Part of her softened with curiosity. "Which one do you want me to answer?"

Remus pondered. "The second."

"Our warrant was to arrest the leadership of Fenrir Greyback's pack," Tonks said. "By extension we could arrest anybody who interfered for obstruction of justice."

"That's how you picked up Vega and Odin?"

"Yes," Tonks said. "Though he was also known to the Auror Office as Greyback's muscle."

"I suppose that's fair," Remus said.

"We knew Greyback had muscle aplenty but we hadn't realized just how you fit into the pack," Tonks said. "Frankly, just by talking to you now I wonder how Greyback would be able to run a functioning community once his charisma runs out."

"You seem to think you have us pegged," Remus said.

"I have a question now," Tonks said.

"You've been generous enough in your answers to earn it," Remus said.

"Wonderful. Who are you looking for?" she asked. "Who did you leave behind that you're looking for so adamantly?"

Remus' jaw tightened and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"While I do appreciate our arrangement, it isn't binding," Remus said. "I don't need to answer that."

"You're right, you don't," Tonks said.

He nodded and they sat in silence for five minutes before Tonks rose to her feet.

"I have other things to do," Tonks said. "I'll come back to you later."

Remus nodded.

"Are you going to shackle me again?" he asked.

"No," Tonks said. "So try not to jump any of my colleagues when they come in to offer you food and drink. Your chances would be rather slim and I'd get into worlds of trouble."

"Understood," Remus said.

Tonks got up and she had her hand on the door when Remus Lupin called her name. She turned around.

"You should know that Fenrir will smell you," Remus said. "He'll recognize you as the spy who infiltrated our camp."

The hairs on the back of Tonks' neck stood up straight. She had spent months approaching the werewolf camp once a week, posing as a farmgirl bringing milk and fruit that the wolves couldn't harvest themselves in their dark corner, lost in the middle of the Forest of Dean. Her cover had been good, but smell… well, she was known in the department for her undercover work and she could change a lot of things about herself but not her smell.

"I thought that the superhuman senses of a werewolf were only active on the day of the full moon," Tonks said.

"Fenrir is different," Remus said. "There is… there is a reason why Fenrir attracts so many others to himself."

"Thank you," Tonks said finally. She would send in Dawlish, she supposed.

* * *

She brought Lupin tea the next time she tried interrogating him. He arched an eyebrow when she slid the cup across the table to him and uncuffed his hands.

"There's no sense in pretending I wasn't undercover if you have ways of recognizing me," Tonks said. "I saw you at the camp, organizing the kitchen and tracking supplies and keeping things running. I know you like your tea."

Remus smiled. "Earl Grey, is it?"

"It is," Tonks said. He took a sip and nodded gratefully at the warmth.

"How's Azkaban?" Tonks asked.

"Not my favourite," Remus said. "Odin Overon shouldn't be there. I know Healers refuse to treat our kind so sending him to a hospital would have little effect, but he shouldn't be in a prison."

"He tried to bite the last Auror who came within four feet of him to offer first aid," Tonks said.

"It wouldn't have had any effect outside of the full moon," Remus said.

"I understand that, but you can see how he hasn't earned himself any goodwill," Tonks said. "My superior, the one who has been interrogating Greyback, reports back that Greyback says Overon will be happy to die for the good of the pack."

Remus looked pale as he looked into his tea.

"I'm sure he will," Remus said. "You do understand that he is going to die, then?"

"I do," Tonks said. She didn't want to show Lupin any signs of it, but part of this investigation had run away from her when Scrimgeour had hopped back in to interrogate Greyback. The idea that a man's care was becoming a bartering chip for information about Voldemort's activities didn't sit well with her, but Scrimgeour had consistently told her to focus on her other charges.

"Right," Remus said quietly, drinking his tea. "And how's Vega, then?"

She knew that she could, and probably should, charge him a question in exchange for that answer but she didn't.

"Vega Miranda also remains in Auror custody," Tonks said. "She has also been in Azkaban, aside from her occasional interrogations."

"She hasn't told you a word, has she?" Remus guessed.

"No," Tonks said. "No she absolutely hasn't."

"Don't take it personally," Remus said.

"Will you elaborate on that? I think you owe me an answer."

"I suppose I do," Remus said. There was worry in his eyes and in his tone as he went on. "Vega doesn't talk much. I don't know how verbal she was before she was bitten anyways, but she was attacked by Boris London. I don't know if you know of him, but he was another werewolf known for his… violence, even by our standards. He targeted women, specifically. Enjoyed biting and turning them. He was taken down a few years ago, during a full moon, but still. It changed Vega, though she's better and happier with the pack."

"What Greyback does isn't all that different from what London did to her," Tonks pointed out.

Remus shook his head.

"Greyback built a community for people who would have none," Remus said. "That's why people can stomach him."

"People like you and Vega?" Tonks asked.

"You saw me at that camp and you have me in custody. You don't need me to say more about the part I play in the pack," Remus said.

"I suppose not," Tonks said. "Still, I would expect…There are photographs of you as a child, after the attack, in your file. They're quite shocking. I would expect you not to condone Greyback."

"I could say the same about Aurors," Remus said. "You were nice enough to bring me tea while your coworkers let another man die of his injuries in Azkaban because he may just be a valuable bargaining chip."

Tonks didn't like that at all. She swallowed.

"I'm the youngest Auror in a decade," Tonks said. "I hope you can understand how little power I have over my superiors."

"I hope you can understand how little power I have over my superiors as well," Remus said.

"You chose Greyback," Tonks said.

"Did I?" Remus asked. "The pickings were slim, Madam Auror."

"Indeed," Tonks said. She had noticed his tendency to call his home _the pack _without mentioning Greyback alright. "The pickings were slim."

* * *

"I'm going to level with you," Tonks said, annoyed before she even walked into the interrogation room. Remus' wrists were bound by silver mannacles again though she'd _told _Diggle to unchain him. She clucked her tongue, even more annoyed. She freed him with a flick of her wand.

"I look forward to it," Remus said, rubbing at his wrists. He looked terrible; as he had the last time she'd seen him on the day before the full moon, when the change was imminent and his body knew it was about to lose itself.

"I've been patient with you," Tonks said. "I've given you what I could in exchange for you giving me what you could."

"You have," Remus acknowledged. "You could have done much worst."

"I'm not interrogating you in a vacuum," she said. "There's a war brewing. There's an army being assembled by the darkest wizard in a lifetime. My superiors are getting impatient and they're questioning my methods now."

"I'm sorry," Remus said.

"No," Tonks said. "_I'm _sorry. They're not interested in learning anymore or in building a relationship with any of you. They're interested in weakening Voldemort's army, and they'll be doing that at dawn, by going back to the Forest of Dean to track down the remaining members of your pack—yes, they'll do it tomorrow, the day after the full moon when everyone's guard is low."

No matter how pale Remus already looked, he paled more.

"They're telling Greyback to try and get him to cave, but you and I both know he won't," Tonks said. "He doesn't care, but you do. You care about people and you care about right and wrong, as far as you can manage it. So between you and me, why should I try to thwart this raid?"

"Because of the children," Remus said breathlessly.

Tonks was absolutely taken aback.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"Because of the children," Remus said again, brown eyes faraway. His entire body language was both taut with worry and limp with despair.

"What children?" Tonks asked, her heart beating in her throat. "I didn't see any children during reconnaissance work."

"Of course not," Remus said. "They're far too precious and vulnerable for a stranger to just _see_… what do you think Vega jumped an Auror to protect?"

Remus buried his face in his hands and Tonks' stomach sunk.

* * *

"I need to talk to Sirius," Tonks said when she swung into Grimmauld Place. Kreacher looked at her with disdain.

"The blood traitor who broke her family's heart had a baby with that filthy Mudblood and now the Mudblood is telling Kreacher to bring her the other traitor," Kreacher muttered. "But Kreacher doesn't want to know where the other traitor is, just as Kreacher's mistress would have wanted…"

"Kreacher," Tonks said. "I'm sorry, I don't have time for this. Where's Sirius?"

"Master Sirius is in the parlour," Kreacher said. "Disappointing his mother furthermore."

She nearly tripped over the goddamned umbrella stand by the door as she scrambled to go find Sirius, who was snuggled up with Kingsley on their favourite armchair in the parlour. Good; she needed to talk to Kingsley too.

"Sirius I need a favour," Tonks said. "And Kingsley—Kingsley I need help."

"Slow down," Kingsley said, gently pushing Sirius off his lap. "What's going on, Tonks?"

She filled them in as best as she could about Greyback's pack, the children in the camp, the raid on the horizon…

"There isn't an Auror out there who would hurt a child," Kingsley said.

"But there _are _Aurors who wouldn't see werewolf children as children," Tonks said. "Besides, what do you suppose Scrimgeour is going to have us do with them? Throw them in Azkaban?"

"Kids shouldn't be in Azkaban," Sirius said dryly.

Tonks sunk her fingers in her pink hair, breathing shakily.

"Tonks," Kingsley said—his strong, definitive voice steadying her. "Tonks, what did you come here to ask?"

"Who's your partner for your overnight shift tonight?" Tonks asked.

"There's five of us on tonight," Kingsley said. "It's the full moon; there's extra bodies around in case something happens with the werewolf captives."

"Fuck," Tonks said, tugging at her hair again. Her heart beat in her throat and she forced her eyes shut, clearing her mind. "I need to get him out."

"You need to get who out?"

"Remus Lupin," Tonks said. "I need to get him out tonight."

"Tonks, he's a werewolf," Kingsley said.

"A bad one at that," Sirius said.

"We won't crack the werewolves' allegiance to Voldemort by force or by cruelty," Tonks said. "There's been enough of that. But we can build a new bond with empathy and decency—isn't that what Dumbledore is having Hagrid try to do with the Giants and the vampires? Well, why not the werewolves? Remus—I mean Lupin—has made it very clear. They don't care about politics, and I don't think they care about Greyback all that much. They care about each other and keeping each other safe—they're not inherently destined to fight at Voldemort's side. But the Auror Department is about to mess it all up; if their children get caught in the crossfire, there will be no going back. Remus is the only person who understands both worlds enough to keep the werewolves safe."

"Be that as it may, he's going to become a bloodthirsty monster tonight," Kingsley said.

"That's why we're on a time crunch," Tonks said. She thought she could maybe, just maybe, get time alone with Remus if she proposed a new strategy of interrogating werewolves just before the transformation when they were at their weakest. And technically, _technically, _Aurors were exempt from the Ministry's anti-apparition wards… that should extend to side-along apparition.

"Where in the world are you going to put an outlaw werewolf on a full moon?" Kingsley asked.

"With his pack," Tonks said. "Listen, I know it sounds bonkers, but that's what they're used to doing. It's a show of trust, and if they're together overnight it will be easier to get them all somewhere safe tomorrow morning."

"Follow up question: where in the world are you going to put a pack of twenty werewolves and some-odd number of werewolf children tomorrow morning?" Kingsley said.

Tonks turned to Sirius.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important," Tonks said. "I'm putting my neck on the line here, Sirius, because I want to do something fair…"

"Grimmauld Place?" Sirius said, eyes wide. "You want to hide a pack of werewolves in Grimmauld Place? Ha! My mother would hate it. I'm in."

"No," Kingsley said. "No, no, absolutely not. You're a wanted man, Sirius!"

"So's Remus Lupin," Sirius said gleefully. "Or at least he will be when we break him out."

"And what about the Order's secrecy?" Kingsley asked.

"It's about trust, Kingsley," Tonks said. "We've done it all wrong with the werewolves. We have to put some skin in the game to show that we're at the table for real. I'll deal with Dumbeldore and Mad-Eye myself, but I can't… I can't let this happen. I can't be responsible for what the Auror Department is going to do."

Kingsley looked at her and shook his head.

"I see what you're trying to do," Kingsley said. "I'll help you how I can, but I have no idea how you plan on getting Remus Lupin out of Auror custody on a night like tonight, when security is that much higher."

"Would a 'most wanted man in Britain' style distraction help empty the Auror Department of its staff?" Sirius asked with a grin on his face.

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you do this," Kingsley said.

"What are you going to do to stop me? You work overnight," Sirius said teasingly, leaning in to kiss Kingsley's temple.

"You'll help?" Tonks asked again, barely believing it.

"I'll help," Sirius said. He turned to Kingsley who sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he felt a migraine coming along.

"I'll help," Kingsley said. "But it's taking all the trust in you I have, Tonks."

"Fair enough," she said. "But trust me. This is the only way to make things right."

* * *

The pack had taken over the fourth floor of Grimmauld Square and had spread out across the bedrooms there. Tonks heard children giggling and splashing in the bathtub and whispered conversations until a woman with dirty blond hair and sunken eyes stepped out of one room, a child on her hip. She scowled at Tonks' direction even if she looked exhausted.

"What do you want?" she asked sharply.

"I'm looking for Remus," Tonks said.

"What the fuck about?" the woman snapped.

"Rhea," someone said. It was Remus, walking out of a bedroom with a first aid kit tucked under his arm. "Rhea, it's alright. She's the one who freed me."

Rhea turned and gave Tonks a skeptical look, surveying Tonks from purple hair to the Auror Department-issued boots she was wearing.

"Rhea, Connor was looking for you," Remus said. "He's in that bedroom. He wants to say goodnight to Lovell before he falls asleep. He's on the second watch."

"Alright," she said before stepping away.

Tonks felt exhausted after spending the night awake and bundled up in a tree in the Forest of Dean, too far off the ground for werewolves to reach her though she'd had a broomstick with her just in case. As soon as the sun had risen she'd jumped to the ground and ran to find Remus, who had rallied the others to get them to Grimmauld Place as quickly as possible. They'd left most of their camp and most of their lives behind, so Tonks couldn't truthfully blame them for being untrusting to the point of having watches organized.

"Spirits run high the day after the full moon and things are tense enough," Remus said quietly. "You shouldn't come too close unannounced."

"I'm sorry," Tonks said. "Somebody wanted to talk to you."

"Remus!" a little voice chirped. A little girl ran out of one room, chased by his father, but jumped with her arms around Remus' neck. Despite how slowly he'd moved before, Remus got up with the child latched onto him.

"There she is," Remus said. "Tala, look at you!"

The little girl giggled.

"I knew you'd come back!" Tala said.

"I'm glad you did, because I was worried," Remus said jokingly. "I missed you so much, I can't believe your hair got so long."

"I wish my hair was pink," the little girl said, looking at Tonks.

"Yes, well, Tonks is a special one," Remus said. He kissed the little girl's ear. "Can I hand you back over to your daddy now? We can talk after everyone gets some sleep, okay? Maybe we can play cards."

"Okay," Tala said.

"Sweet dreams, sweet stuff," Remus said, passing the little girl back to her father who whisked her into one of the bedrooms.

"You're good with children," Tonks said.

"There's enough of them around that you get the hang of it," Remus said. "What did you come up and see me for?"

"There's someone who wants to talk to you," she said. "Dumbledore. He's our leader, for the Order of the Phoenix."

Remus considered this. He called for someone and Rhea emerged again. They had a quick conversation in what sounded like Welsh before Remus nodded and followed Tonks down the stairs.

"Is the Auror Department onto you yet?" he asked.

"No," she said. "No, I fudged the paperwork well enough yet when I signed in yesterday and confounded Dedalus Diggle—he still swears that he saw you after I left last night. Kingsley's the only other one who saw, and he's on our side. I think we're good."

Remus nodded. "Will they move Vega, then? Will you be able to get her back out too?"

"I'll try," Tonks said. "I promise, I'll try. Dumbledore might be able to help."

"Do you trust this Dumbledore?" Remus asked.

"I do," Dora said. She rushed to add. "But it's not about me, it's about you and..."

"I know, but I trust you," Remus said. "I never thought I would trust a witch, let alone an Auror, but you… you came through, for me and my people."

Tonks' stomach stirred at his words and at the thought of what may have happened to Tala and Lovell and all the other werewolves whose names she hadn't learned yet had she not. They had come too close to disaster. Much too close.

"You're not like what I thought a witch would be," Remus said.

"And you're not like what I thought a werewolf would be," Tonks said.

He smiled.

"Maybe we'll get along yet," he told her with a smile.

* * *

**WC: **4731


	19. DancerAU: Pink Swan

**Author's Note: **This chapter is on the lighter and shorter side, tapping back into what this collection was supposed to be about 1000 years ago. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I am not she because #transrights

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Dancer!AU

* * *

**Pink Swan **

One of Remus' many good reasons to be friendly with the custodial staff at the Beauxbatons Dance Academy was that they usually didn't mind slipping him an extra key so that he could get into the rehearsal rooms early. It wasn't strictly necessary for Remus to get to the studios before the dancers did, but it soothed his anxiety about being on time and also meant he could settle in quietly and familiarize himself with the instrument and the acoustics he'd stumbled into. Remus liked things quiet, after all.

Today he was taking over from Sirius, who had called in sick, and was playing for one of the senior cohort's rehearsals. As he understood it, their end of year show was coming along. He had music sheets upon music sheets for _Swan Lake _tucked in his bag and though he'd played most of them before, it had been for some time now so he was quite anxious to finish his coffee and run through some of the more challenging pieces a few times.

When he reached studio 3, there was already someone sitting at the door; a young woman in a Beauxbatons sweats with the hood pulled up and earbuds in her ear, a gym bag at her feet. She looked up when she saw him coming and jumped up to her feet, nearly tripping over herself. She tore her headphones out and threw her hood back, revealing a shock of magenta hair already tied back in a strict bun.

"Wotcher, are you the piano player for today?" she asked. The voice that spilled out of her mouth, direct and casual and heavily accented, was about as unexpected for this place as her pink hair.

"Yes," Remus said, somewhat stunned.

"Amazing," she said, relieved. "I'm one of the seniors; I wanted to get some practise in before rehearsals started but the receptionist said you already got the spare key…"

"Oh," Remus said. He felt himself blushing. "I… I need to practise too."

"Oh," she said. "Do you… do you mind if I follow you in? I'll put my earbuds in, I promise I won't be trouble."

"I… I suppose that's fine," Remus said. Who was he to say no? He wasn't supposed to be there either.

"Brilliant, thank you," she said. She bent down to pick up her bag but banged her head against the wall, swearing to herself. Remus winced in sympathy.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just bloody clumsy."

Remus kept his thoughts about how clumsiness probably wasn't a valued trait in the academy's senior dancers to himself as he unlocked the door and switched on the rehearsal room lights. Artificial light bounced against the wall of mirrors and the worn wooden floor.

He made a beeline for the piano as the dancer crossed the room and dumped her bag in a corner. She peeled off her hoodie and sweatpants, tossing them on top of her bag, leaving her in booty shorts and a black leotard with sleeves that went down to her elbows and intricate lacing on the back. No matter how clumsy she'd been outside and how flamboyant her hair was, she was definitely built like a ballerina, with arms and legs that were nothing but muscle. He tried to ignore her as she sat on the floor and stretched extensively, humming along to some rock song blaring in her ears. He tried focusing instead on stretching his fingers, finishing his coffee, and flipping through his music. At least he was playing on one of the better tuned pianos, today.

He had gone through a few scales and a few pieces when the dancer had finished her warm-up; jogging and then sprinting in place facing the mirror, doing floor exercises to stretch her back and calves, standing at the bar and stretching out her legs with an elastic band, practising her splits, stretching her feet…

Finally, she laced up her pointe shoes and rose when Remus was about halfway through the first piece he'd decided he needed to go through an extra time. Something stopped her though and she froze, frowned, and looked over to him. She plucked her earbuds out when he was done.

"Are you playing the Black Swan solo?" she asked.

"I—I'm working on it," Remus said.

"Oh," she said. "That's my solo."

"You're the Black Swan?" Remus asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Odile, yeah," the dancer said. She grinned. "Funny, is it?"

"I'm sorry," Remus said, blushing.

"No, it is," she said with a grin. "It's rather hysterical. Pisses off some of the other girls to no end, but yeah. That's me; the ugly duckling and the Black Swan."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything," Remus said. "I'm sure you're incredibly talented."

"It's fine," she said. "I was just wondering if I could dance along with you. It's so much nicer to dance without headphones."

What was Remus going to do now, after all of that? Say no?

"Of course," Remus said. "I'll start from the top."

The dancer nodded and hurried across the room to take her opening position—feet in fourth position croisée, one arm gently curved in front of her, the other raised over her head. Head up, back straight, eyes focused.

"Five, six, seven, eight," Remus counted for her before he started playing.

The Black Swan solo opened with a number of pirouettes and Remus immediately felt as if he was watching a different person move before him, when the dancer launched into them easily. She had gone from slouchy and casual to regal and poised, every pointed toe and bent limb and curved hand intentional and natural all at once. He had to force himself to pay attention to the music sheets before him instead of watching her move from one pirouette to another, from one jump to the tip of her pointe shoes to the next, from hyperfocusing on the every change in posture she eased into so effortlessly… she was absolutely beautiful and absolutely enchanting—and he thought that before even _noticing _the smile on her face as she embodied this dance and the music he was playing. She kept grabbing his attention, begging for him to look up, and he couldn't help but feel that she knew…

Fuck. Remus hadn't needed that kind of additional pressure today.

* * *

**WC: **1055


	20. CriminalAU: A World Without Death Eaters

**Author's Note: **Not going to lie; I was very stressed about writing a Criminal!AU for these two to fill a prompt since conceptualizing them as criminals was a toughie, but I like what ended up happening here. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I am not she because #transrights

**Warnings:** Murder, off-screen

* * *

**This week's AU: **Criminal!AU

* * *

**A World Without Death Eaters**

Tonks slammed the trunk door before circling around and hopping into the passenger sheet. She shut the door behind her and pulled the mask off the bottom half of her face, leaning across the centre console to kiss her husband's cheek.

"Ready?" Remus asked from the passenger seat.

"Yes," she said. She was conscious that her clothes were covered in dirt, but she supposed that was why they were going to _scourgify _everything they owned when they arrived at the motel they had scouted out a few hours away—far enough that they wouldn't be setting themselves at the crime scene, close enough that their getaway time was reasonable.

Remus turned the key in the car's engine and set off back onto the main road. The car clunked as they did, but when Tonks twisted around to look into the backseat Teddy hadn't so much as stirred. The silencing and soothing charms in his car seat were really quite something; he could sleep through a murder and, frankly, already had a few times.

"He stayed asleep for you?" Tonks asked.

"He was out like a light," Remus confirmed, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror so that he could steal a look at their son. "We had a very close call when Rosie the Rabbit fell out of his hand, but disaster was avoided."

Tonks grinned.

"I'll feed him when we get in to keep him that way," she said. "I'm exhausted."

"Dolohov gave you trouble?" Remus asked, eyes flitting to her with concern.

"Not really," Tonks said. "I just buried him particularly deep."

"I told you I could do this one if you wanted to watch the baby…"

"No, no. I wanted to kill this one," Tonks said. With Dolohov nearly killing her husband at the Battle of Hogwarts, she'd had a debt to settle with him. And that was what this was all about, wasn't it? This great road trip around England of theirs, tracking down the Death Eaters who had escaped from Hogwarts before they got away for good from a severely crippled, understaffed, and overly bureaucratic and political Auror Department. Settling debts, as two people whose lives had been profoundly changed by the War with Voldemort. Whose lives might have been ruined by it, actually, were it not for each other. And Teddy. Always Teddy.

Tonks twisted around again to look at her little boy, whose sleep was so peaceful and deep that his hair transitioned from soft pinks to soft blues as he dreamed. She had sworn to herself that her son would not grow up in a world of Death Eaters. She was willing to get her own hands dirty to make it happen.

She noticed Remus smile from the corner of her lips.

"What?" she asked.

"You look cute when you get all feisty and protective," he said. "That's all."

"If you want me feisty love, all you had to do was ask," she grinned before reclining in her seat and putting her legs up on the dashboard. Remus hated when she did that; he said that if they got in a wreck and the airbags deployed, she might shatter her legs. She always replied that he was too good of a driver to get them in a wreck and he rolled his eyes and usually muttered something about how she'd be the end of him. He didn't say anything about it this time, he just took her hand.

"You know I'm just happy to have you in any way I can," he said. Then he frowned and turned to look at her. "Why is your hand wet? Is that blood?"

"Whoops," she shrugged.

* * *

**WC: **610


	21. AmnesiaAU: A Memory Charm Three Ways

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I am not she because #transrights

**Hogwarts: **Assignment #4, Geography **Task #3: Quebec:** Write about someone being disowned, or otherwise leaving their family

**Warnings:** Amnesia; Wizarding War setting

* * *

**This week's AU: **Amnesia!AU

* * *

**A Memory Charm Three Ways **

**Joy**

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw his eyes flutter. She knew that she was supposed to call the Healers when this happened but she was so shocked and so completely ecstatic that he had woken up that she couldn't move until she was sure he was awake.

Remus' head rolled over so that he looked at her with hazy, blinking eyes that had trouble focusing.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hi," he said groggily. Then he looked around the hospital room, the simple motion of turning his head to the side seeming laborious and difficult.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," Tonks recited. "You were hit by a powerful curse fired by a Death Eater. It wiped your memories… pretty completely, we think."

"Yes," Remus said. "Yes, I think so too, I don't… I'm sorry, you must know me if you're here, but I don't remember you."

"That's alright," Tonks said gently, her heart breaking at how absolutely polite and cordial he was even in this impossible situation. It nearly made up for just how badly she wanted him to remember her name. "Do you remember your name?"

He paused for a few minutes.

"I think… I think Remus," he said. "Remus Lupin."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, that's awesome."

"I still don't remember yours, I'm sorry," she said.

"I'm Tonks," she said. "Nymphadora Tonks."

"Hi," Remus said. "Were we… were we friends?"

Tonks bit her lip.

"I'm actually your wife," she said.

Remus frowned and looked at her for a second, as if she were something mesmerizing or glowing, and then he scoffed.

"No," he said. "There's no way."

"What do you mean, no way?" Tonks asked.

"You're far too…" Remus scoffed again and looked away, a blush spreading over his nose and cheeks.

"Say it," Tonks said, unable to help herself from smiling. "You can tell me."

"No, I can't," Remus mumbled. "We've only just met."

"Well, maybe," Tonks said. "But I promise you can tell me anything. Whatever you're thinking, I can promise that you've said much bolder things to me before, you know…"

Remus blushed some more and Tonks bit back a smile, slapping herself internally for it. It _had _to be wrong to say such suggestive things to someone freshly hit by a memory charm. Still, she'd worn her baggiest sweater to the hospital which was hiding her baby bump nicely—at least she wasn't shocking her poor husband with the news that he was married _and _the news of his impending fatherhood all at once.

"You're just very pretty," Remus said. "And you're very young. I… I can't imagine that you possibly would want someone like me."

Of course, the man had no memories of his life but his doubt and self-deprecation remained. Why wasn't she surprised?

"Yes, you did point out these two things to be a lot before we got married—which only happened after I promised you that I didn't care multiple times," Tonks said. "I promise you I still don't."

"Did I stop calling you beautiful after we got married? I should be shot," Remus said.

Tonks smiled.

"No, you never stopped," Tonks said. "See, that's why I sat here and waited. I want you back."

Remus chewed on his lip some more.

"Are my memories going to come back?" he asked.

"I don't know," Tonks said frankly. "The Healers said to give you time, but they weren't sure. We might have to make you new ones."

"That… that would probably be okay," Remus said.

* * *

**Patience **

Remus' Healers came to meet her in the waiting room, as they always did. She got up when she saw them arriving and wrapped her cardigan around herself.

"How is he today?" she asked.

"Better," the Healer said. "The photographs you brought along have helped us jog his memory and make the things we told him feel real."

"Brilliant," Tonks said. She looked at the Healers' faces. Like Aurors, they were trained to deliver news straightforwardly, plainly, and neutrally. Their faces were impassive, but she could read through them. "But..?"

"But he isn't ready to meet anyone from his life yet," the Healer said. "A botched memory charm is an incredibly difficult recovery, Mrs. Tonks."

"I know," Tonks said. "I know, it's fine, I'm fine. I want him to take the time that he needs."

_As much as I would kill to see him again, _she thought. Patience had never been one of her virtues and her well was running dry now—but for Remus she could wait. For Remus she could do just about anything, after all. Besides, he had woken up without memories, alone where the Death Eaters had left him, and had then been lost in the Muggle hospital systems for days before he'd been brought to St. Mungo's. She couldn't fault that process for taking his time.

"Does he know about me or the baby?" Tonks asked.

"No," the Healer said carefully. "No, we… we haven't told him yet, as per your request. We're continuing to wait until his formative memories are restored."

Tonks nodded.

"Good," she said. "Good, thank you."

She had seen Remus react once to the news that he would be a father. She didn't need to put him through that hell again, when he didn't have anybody safe to go home to. That was what was important: that he have a safe place to go home to. It didn't matter how long it took him to get there.

* * *

**3\. Safety **

She wished she wasn't alone to hear these words. Well, she wasn't quite alone now—she never was nowadays, as the baby pressing against (_nay, _dancing atop) her bladder reminded her. Still, there was only so much comfort she could garner from running her hand up and down her belly bump as she looked into her husband's hospital room.

"We have absolutely no idea how functional he will be when he wakes up," the Healer said. "Maybe all he'll need is time. Maybe he'll need Healer intervention. Maybe none of the above will bring all of his memories, and therefore all of him, back."

Tonks knew it was a bad sign that a Healer specializing in memory loss charms had come down from the hospital's permanent spell damage ward to speak.

"There's no way to know until he wakes up though, is there?" Tonks asked.

"I'm afraid not," the Healer said. He looked around them before making direct eye contact with her and lowering his voice. "And I know your husband is with the Order of the Phoenix. I know he was probably fighting with the Death Eaters when he was hit by this curse. I don't… I don't know how able to protect himself against them he'll be."

Tonks' eyes widened, shocked by the Healer's directness given the new regime they were all toiling under.

"He was my professor, for a year at Hogwarts," the Healer added, looking at his shoes. "He was one of my favourites. Wrote the recommendation letter that got me into St. Mungo's Healer Training program and really made me believe that I could get in if I applied."

"Right," Tonks said quietly. "Yes, he's good at making you feel like you're the most special person in the world."

She looked up again, into the hospital room, where Remus was sleeping atop a pile of pillows. His other injuries had been attended to with various potions and enchanted bandages, but his memory…

"He might not be safe," Tonks said quietly.

"St. Mungo's has been lucky," the Healer said. "The Death Eaters haven't bothered us here—I think they know there would be riots if they broke the hospital's neutrality and sanctuary status. But the second your husband steps out of St. Mungo's and goes home with you…"

"They might finish what they started," Tonks said quietly.

"Yes," the Healer said. "That would be my fear."

She exhaled, trying to steady herself, as she rested her hand on top of the spot that the baby was choosing to kick especially hard today.

"And if he doesn't remember who he is, let alone how to duel or protect himself or spot Death Eaters down the street…" she chewed her lip. "He'd be in so much danger."

"So much," the Healer echoed. "There are things we can do to bring up his memory bit by bit, little by little, but I fear it may not be fast enough or comprehensive enough to help."

"And he's not just any patient," Tonks said. He was Remus Lupin. He had been in the Order of the Phoenix since its inception. This is his second Wizarding War. He was a half-breed, by Death Eater standards, married to a blood traitor's daughter, and father to an unborn but half-werewolf child. As far as targets went, under this regime…

"He isn't," the Healer agreed.

"If you were me, would you trust St. Mungo's to keep your favourite person in the world safe?" she asked quietly.

The Healer didn't answer immediately, which was enough of an answer to Tonks.

"We're trying," the Healer confided in a strained voice. "But at the same time, we're just _waiting _for our luck to break."

Her answer was clear. It came to her like an intrusive thought—she hadn't asked for it or wanted it, but she knew she was right when she said it.

"Don't do any of those things you mentioned that might start bringing his memory back," Tonks said.

"I… I beg your pardon?" the Healer said.

"Look, would you be able to help me get him out of here quietly if I supplied a Portkey?" Tonks asked. She and Fleur had found a way to make them so that the Ministry wouldn't trace them, between Fleur's brilliance at charms and Tonks' insider knowledge of the ministry. They had gotten a few Muggleborns out of England and to France that way since the war had begun. If she went to Shell Cottage quickly, they could make another Portkey as soon as tonight… the thought twisted her stomach.

"I…" the Healer stuttered. "To go where?"

"I think it's safer if I didn't tell you," Tonks said. "But somewhere safe, where other Healers would be able to take care of him. Just not… just not Healers in this country."

"I…" the Healer looked stunned but then he shook himself out of his stupor. "Yes, of course I could. But you do realize that if we don't address the memory loss as soon as it wakes up it may become permanent?"

"That's alright," Tonks said. The words made her feel sick and they tasted bitter in her mouth, no matter how right she knew they were. "It's more… it's more important that he be safe."

She broke her heart saying it, but she didn't regret those words. She just hoped that Remus, and maybe the son she was about to have for them, would forgive her this choice one day.

* * *

**WC: **1828


	22. SoulmateAU: Not The Most Subtle

**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I am not she because #transrights

**Warnings:** NA

* * *

**This week's AU: **Soulmate!AU: Your soulmate leaves a mark on your skin in the first place they touch you.

* * *

**Not The Most Subtle**

Remus was laying back in bed shirtless, looking up and examining his elbow. He had trouble believing the soulmark that he saw there—both because of its particular features and… well, Remus had gone this long without a soulmark appearing to him the first time his soulmate touched him. He hadn't particularly believed that one would come his way and he was somewhat shocked. Part of him worried if he looked away it would vanish, as if the universe might realize that a mistake had been made.

Sirius interrupted his thoughts, as he so often did, by bursting unceremoniously into Remus' room.

"Do you have any toothpaste?" Sirius asked.

"You're going to brush your teeth?" Remus asked, sitting up relatively encouraged. Even if he was out of Azkaban, the weight of the Dementors still sometimes dragged Sirius through hell and made it harder for him to take care of himself. Teeth-brushing was good.

"I can do that too I suppose, but I was going to put some in those cream-filled biscuits only Snape likes before the next Order meeting," Sirius said. He leaned against the door. "What are you doing, looking at your elbow?"

"Nothing," Remus said. Sirius was one of the only people who had seen Remus bare-chested, since it was an incredibly scarred part of his body, but Remus still reached down to pull his sweater back on immediately. He didn't want to have to explain the soulmark… quite yet, anyways.

"What's on your elbow?" Sirius asked as if he was reading Remus' thoughts and being his usual contrarian self.

"Nothing," Remus said.

"No, it was…" Sirius frowned.

"Something from the full moon," Remus interrupted him.

"No, it was blue. Hang on…" Sirius crossed the room and grabbed Remus' arm, looking down at the soulmark there. "Holy fucking shit, Moony! Since when have you had this? For long? Because nothing interesting ever happens to me, and if you've been hiding this…"

"I have not," Remus said, clucking his tongue. "This is… new."

"New," Sirius said. "Like, brand new? But you haven't left the house since Monday or done anything remotely interesting other than getting a pitcher of lemonade spilled on you during the Order meeting by…"

His eyes broadened.

"No," Remus said. "No, don't say it. Don't lose your mind about this..."

"Tonks?" Sirius asked. "She touched you and gave you that soulmark?"

"No!" Remus said. As he said it the soulmark on his elbow turned from its shade of glacial blue to a bubblegum pink that… well, wasn't helping Remus' case.

Sirius looked up at him with a shit-eating grin.

"Oh, shut up," Remus huffed.

Sirius burst out laughing and the mark on Remus' elbow turned to a canary yellow colour. He ran his fingers over it and it went back to the turquoise he'd first noticed, leaving a smile on Remus' lip even as Sirius continued to laugh. He could bear his oldest friend's laughter in exchange for those gently flowing colours.

* * *

**WC: **495


End file.
